Just a Regular Story
by LeninWerke
Summary: Mordecai is tired of living life as a menial laborer with no future, no companionship, and does not have the ghusto to get up and change all that.  Luckily, with the help of a new arrival and steam locomotion, things could change.  Mordecai & Margaret
1. I saw a Ship come Sailing In

**Author's notes:**

**Well, this story wont be like many you read, let alone like the usual Regularshow fic. It's a Mordecai & Margaret pairing, I do like this couple and I don't think they have enough of a chance in the television show. **

**The two of them get together with a little help from your's truly as an OC. It's a bit old fashioned, and I am guessing a lot of you reviewers will complain about my technical ramblings. If you don't like them, just read over them. I put those in there to add flavor for my fellow readers who are also engineers, gear-heads historians and techies like I am. **

**(Don't worry, it slackens off quite a bit as the story goes on.)**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Regularshow or any of it's characters, all that belongs to the awesome mister Quintel. I WILL however some day own all the machinery described forthwith. **

**And now, a story. **

* * *

><p>"REGULAR STORY"<p>

By A. E. Karnes

LeninWerke Locomotive Works

Mordecai sat dejectedly in the coffeeshop. The beige, blank, flavorless wall paneling glared down at him, reflecting the sunlight in from the windows. It was late in the summer, and his heart was heavy. Mordecai pondered the days he had experienced over the past four months under the burning, golden sun, on the green fields. Doing nothing, doing absolutely nothing, and when he was doing something, he was usually taken advantage of by people with more influence on the world around him than he had, and trampled on by those who bore him malicious intent. And what had come of all his efforts? He and his otherwise malevolent and impatient acquaintances had, in their times of cooperation, murdered an autistically persistent audio tape, traveled through several dimensional rifts, melted a snowmonster, and silenced a fiendish telephone. It had been the most demented year of his life, and the emptiest feeling. His heart ached for someone more than the boisterous friend he constantly accompanied. As he thought, that someone walked into the room.

"Hey Mordecai!" greeted the red-crested avian with the coffee pitcher in her hand.

"Heyyy Margaret." Mordecai smiled at her. "Slow day today?"

"You cowardly, chickenshit fool; can't you at least talk to her about something more than hideous everyday life?" He kicked himself. He had been really getting to hate everyday life, or the definition as it pertained to his, lately.

"Yeah, slow as could be." Margaret smiled back.

"At least shes here, things are always good when shes talking to me, no matter how short a time." He thought to himself. "I wish..."

Margaret, to his surprise, sat down at the table. "You look a little glum, whats up?"

If he had looked down, he wasn't aware of it. He kicked himself again, but his heart jumped when she sat down, she hadn't done that in all the times he had been here, his feeling quickly turned to dismay, as he couldn't come up with a good reply.

"I've just got a lot to think about." He replied. "Loads on my mind."

"Anything I can help with?"

"YES!" Screamed the voice in Mordecai's head. "You fool, answer YES."

"No not really, you'd be creeped out by it." He said sadly. "You idiot that sounded terrible, now shes gonna think yer crazy."

"Oh well, I hope it gets better then." Margaret replied empathetically, and got up.

Mordecai groaned and threw his head down on the table when she was out of earshot.

"God I hate this rut, the worst part is im never going to get out of it, it will NEVER change." He went over this fact in his head, rolling it over and over painfully like an un-solved, plus sized rubrics cube.

"Something's gotta give, something's gotta change, something absolutely needs to give or I...I don't know how I can go on like this." Mordecai felt absolutely alone. Rigby, his best friend, was a nutball with almost no sense of the world, not that Mordecai had much of that, he had never been outside of his small, dead-end town in it's small, dead end district in its small dead end state. He looked around at the pictures on the walls of the café, that may or may not have had any relevance at all to the town or district or even state. There was a photo of an old stone arch bridge being built at some obscure ford. There was a photo of a locomotive pulling into a run down old station, there was a photo of three men standing in front of a large, half-finished boat hull up on sawhorses, burdened down with an abnormally large number of different kinds of clamps.

Mordecai thought, if he was any one of those three men, life would most likely be infinitely better than it is now. He tried time and time again to belittle and mask these thoughts by categorizing them as that meaningless, clichéd teenaged angst that so many people in the world complained of, but this feeling of being alone seemed to him different, unique in a way. And now, oddly, accented by the dull roar of his mind.

That roar, he had experienced his head ringing before, but not a dull roar, and he thought he could hear a rhythmic, booming beat to it, like that of a large piece of far off machinery. Mordecai suddenly realized that this roar was not from his head at all, as the pictures on the wall were gyrating slightly to the deep, rhythmic pulses, as was reflected by the ripples in his mug of coffee.

"What the..." he asked himself. The noise was increasing in intensity and definition. He looked up to Margaret, who looked at him across the room with a surprised expression, which turned quickly to that of fright.

A shadow began falling across the room, created by the sunlight in the windows at one end of the room rapidly decreasing in brightness, as if a very thick cloud had suddenly passed over. The darkness moved from one end of the room, to eventually fill it, and still the noise grew. A coffee-grinder began walking across it's counter, as did the register, and the tip jar fell and shattered, where a fat little five year old boy fell on his hands and knees to pick up the rampant coins, and with a shriek, cut himself on the glass shards.

The whole room shook with the virulent noise.

Mordecai saw Margaret hurriedly put down her mug and run outside, he got up and sprinted after her.

Outside, right out the door, Mordecai's glance was drawn straight upwards. An immense machine, a ship of the air as it appeared, was chugging, whirling and flailing over the rooftops of the buildings of the town. A silvery-sided hull, wide, and eleven times longer than it was wide, it's sides glistened with a silvery paint seemingly glossed over a taught cloth, raised and punctuated in compound curves by solid framework underneath. The hull was shaped like a cylinder, not round, but a compounded circular cross section made with many sides. On the bottom few sides, great objects that looked like buildings, but upside down, clung to the structure. Trusswork crisscrossed underneath the great shape, supporting smaller versions of these small buildings, each in turn supporting whirling propellers. Up above, on the top, mordecai could see large rotors, like windmills standing on their axes, churning and beating the air, creating the rhythmic boom with each pass of their blades that flashed the sunlight. The noise was now a deafening din, and sounded like a thousand engines of all different types running together in close proximity. Strong lights blazed from the control houses under the ship, reds, greens and golds. Smoke and steam issued from the top and in some distinct places in the trusswork. He could make out a crane and lifting gear. The whole thing was moving directly away from the shop, along the length of it's hull, at what seemed a slow speed. As the great thing departed, it's stern tapered back from a cylinder into a streamlined cone, flanked on either side by a gigantic maneuvering fin, and rudders of much the same size on the top and bottom, covered further by smaller rudders and control surfaces arranged in a Venetian-blind fashion.

Mordecai and the onlookers gathered in the street looked at the immense creation until the very tip of it's stern disappeared completely between the dormers of the tenement housing across the street, leaving only a dull version of it's previous noise behind.

"What the heck was that?" He exclaimed after a long pause, breaking the silence.

"I don't know boyo, but my god it looked like some kind of sign from up above!" Said a nearby police officer of punctuated height and Irish descent and accent.

"Not a sign, a ship!" Someone else said.

"Thaaaat's right, a ship, and not just any kind of ship, that there is a rigid airship, a bonified Zeppelin!" Someone stuttered in a cracked voice. "Oh how long ago I saw the last one left, I thought theyd all gone!"

"Don't be silly old man, theres no way things like that can fly through the air!" retorted a young man with a red Mohawk.

"Hey, shut up and let him talk." Mordecai replied, angrily. "What was it you say?"

"Big things!" The old man gestured with his hands apart as far as he could stretch them. "Zeppelins, technically the first kind of aircraft that ever flew, it's like a big trusswork ship's hull that's filled with chambers of lighter than air gas, and the whole thing is run around with big propellers hooked to engines." "I saw the last one after old Hindenburg burned in the thirties, but in all my days, the old Graf I knew wasn't as half as big as that one there!" He excitedly gestured at the sky.

Mordecai did know the story of Hindenburg, a vague concept about something like a blimp but much larger being destroyed in a fiery crash. Is that what that thing he had just seen was? It looked like it had buildings integrated into it's structure, it looked like a housing development with propellers.

"Mordecai, Mordecai, did you see that thing?" Margaret asked, running to him.

"Yeah I did, and something is really not right here." He replied, looking straight at her.

"I think it was headed towards the park!" Margaret panted.

Mordecai's eyes widened. Come to think of it, it was.

"I've gotta go Margaret, im really sorry!" He exclaimed, making a break for the golfcart sitting at a crazy angle next to the parking meter. He jumped it, turned on the little under-powered motor drive and drove away as fast as its little wheels would carry him. 

* * *

><p>Benson was currently in a battle trying to replace the lightbulb in a lamppost that hadn't worked in months. The old bulb's metal end was corroded and stuck firmly in place, and Benson was losing his temper at it quite quickly. He hated this dead end job, he hated his co workers and those who worked under him. He hated the fact that he couldn't trust a single one of them, he couldn't even completely trust the hard working Yeti, for all the odd things he did. He hated the senile old man he worked for, who, when something horrid or out of the ordinary happened, thoroughly enjoyed it, and left Benson to come up with his own workplan to fix it, instead of providing one for him. How the man acquired ownership of a house and parkland and not lost it to financial disaster prior to his help he would never know. He did all the taxes, bank statements, and tried to balance income and outflow by giving his employees mediocre wages. He hated the complaints he received from said employees about said mediocre wages. He loathed and despised the fact that he was, through no choice of his own, a gumball machine. Most of all, he hated the fact that even though he hated every single one of them, he was stuck with them. Without pops, Benson would be catapulted back to the early years of homelessness and unemployment, the years he constantly blocked from his memories, and without his employees, who were all idiots or defective in some way or another, he would have no way to complete the enourmous workload that such a property entailed. He was thoroughly stuck, and he hate, hate, hated it.<p>

Up came Mordecai, one of the many self-declared banes of his existence, on the little old beat up golfcart, much too fast, which was not helping the fact the stupid little machine would need a rebuild soon.

"Benson, Benson!" He shouted.

"What is it!" Yelled the talking gumball machine. "Im really busy!"

"Benson did you see anything weird go over the park?"

"There might have been something, all I remember was a noise and a shadow, but I don't pay attention to stupid things mordecai, and neither should you!" Benson replied. Inwardly, he did note the urgency in Mordecai's tone.

"If your that concerned, go check it out, see if it landed in the park or something!" Benson stated, just trying to get rid of him. "And if I hear about this one more time for anything that isn't a good reason, you're FIRED!"

Mordecai took off down the flattened dirt path, for it was faster to drive on.

* * *

><p>Rigby trudged through the grass and moss of the park. These parts of the fields were not as uncannily pristine as the rest of the park, as long grass, moss and deadwood cropped up here and there, especially so the untrimmed grass. He was bored, bored, tired and upset, and wanting to know where mordecai was. They were supposed to get together an hour ago at the house, and the raccoon wanted to beat the jaybird once and for all at the newest videogame in their collection, <em>"Dust-mite Helicopter Revenge 3"<em>

"I know he's got a life, but I've been his damn best friend since fourth grade, he needs to pay a bit more attention to me!" He muttered to himself. "He's probably off with _Margaret_ right now trying to get with her." Rigby hated Margaret, not as a person, but as an obstruction to his relationship with Mordecai. No, of course he didn't have any romantic interests with him, but she always took away his time, he was always thinking of her. It seemed, to him, a vicious attention-triangle.

Before he had a chance to further lose himself in thought, realizing he had been walking in circles, a loud noise phased him back into reality. It was the golf cart, Mordecai at the controls.

"Mordecai, where have you been!" Rigby shouted at the bluejay, angrily from a hundred feet away, and rapidly closing.

"Dude, Rigby, no time to stop, hop on!" He replied, waving his wings.

Rigby screamed as he was set upon by the cart, and would have been run clean over if he hadn't jumped as hard as he could, over the plastic frontboards and landing head-first, painfully in the passenger side.

"Owwwch!" Rigby screeched quietly into the cheap seating.

"Dude, I just saw this gigantic thing fly over town, some guy called it a Zzz...z...some sort of ship that flies through the air...Zep-plane I think..." Mordecai related. "It was amazing, but god it scared the crap outta a lot of people, it was headed right this way, did you see it?"

"Ohh, that was what that loud noise was, I didn't see it but I think I heard it." Rigby said, comprehending. "Yeah it was loud and it lasted for awhile, it seemed to be moving but then it stopped, sounded like a whole bunch of different kinds of engines running, it stopped and stayed about over there, and then it slowly died down!" Rigby replied. "And I think you mean Zeppelin!"

"Yes, Zeppelin that was it, how do you know what it is?" Mordecai asked, swerving to avoid an old stump in the middle of the path.

"Duhhh, I'm a Lead Zeppelin fan, remember?" Rigby retorted, rolling his eyes. "Every Zep fan knows that, they are these big dirigibles that fly through the air, apparently they explode real easy cause the gas they use to fly is flammable, the band's picture makes fun of the Hindenburg crash, aint it cool?"

"Heck no!" Mordecai exclaimed. "People probably died in that accident, and I don't see the fun in destroying something that took a lot of people a lot of time to make!"

"Bah, killjoy." Rigby skulked and turned away from him in his seat.

The path finally entered the hedgerows, and ran through a dense row of trees. For only a moment, the trees blotted out the sun. They came out on the other side and into a valley, along the outer extremity of the park where, amazingly, neither of them had been yet. What they saw across the valley amazed them.

The land dropped off sharply, a good sixty feet down a steep hill or more, the kind of hill that would make great sledding in the winter. Across a little gully containing a rock-bottomed drainage ditch and some concrete sewage pipes, and a solitary destroyed telephone pole. From here, the land steadily tapered off more down a long, gradual hill, hardly a hill at all and more like an angled field. The railway embankment rose a few feet, harboring the steel rails. In the distance, past a far off row of scrub and dead trees, a few apartment buildings wavered in the hazy heat of the day.

In the midst of this scene, dominating everything else, was the airship. It sat just on the other side of the railway tracks in the middle of the gently sloping field, which was barley long enough to house the massive machine. The ship was over a thousand feet long by their best judgements, as many a time they had had to measure a field or pathway to aid in construction work. Furthermore, it towered over a hundred feet above the ground. The ship was eerily still and silent, its many propellers lay motionless, the four big rotors, two towards the bow and two towards the stern on struts protruding out to the sides of the ship from the top of the hull, were also completely still. The frightful noise its means of propulsive power had made in a running state was gone, and the scene was oddly peaceful, the iron, aluminum and cloth behemoth sitting among untrimmed wildflowers.

Six large stacks atop the hull and towards the stern, painted and arranged much like the stacks of an old ocean liner, wafted hazy, half-visible smoke into the late summer sky. The ship itself was sitting on the ground by means of large trusswork struts which protruded downwards from it's bottom superstructure. Steam wafted around a few of the control houses and gondolas which hung below. This was the first time Mordecai had gotten a good look at the ship. It was long and sleek, a cylinder with two gently swooping curved ends which ended in shallow conical shapes, where all the riblines converged. At the stern end, the end away from them, the hull was faired out with rudders and elevation fins, which seemed to complete the ship asthetically. It was quite an elegant thing.

"I think I see workmen down there!" Rigby exclaimed.

"Yeah, I do too." Mordecai agreed.

They could see little specks running back and forth underneath the ship carrying objects, and something that looked like a forklift.

"Dude, what are they doing down there, it looks like they're building something!" Mordecai said.

"Let's go check it out!" Rigby foamed, eagerly.

"Hey, easy man, we're already in enough trouble." Mordecai resisted, inwardly very interested.

"Last one to the Zep is a rotten egg!" Rigby yelled, rolling down the hill.

Mordecai chuckled to himself. "Dauntless, he's absolutely dauntless." He followed.

As they drew nearer, the immensity of the creation truly dawned upon them. It was like one of the worlds biggest skyscrapers, lying on its side. They walked underneath the shadow of the massive hull which blotted out the sun. It was cool underneath the great ship, who's now silent prescence was becoming comforting.

The hull sat on top of large, corrugated-side building-like structures attached to it, full of circular and oval windows, doors and catwalks, again like those on the sides of a ship's superstructure. Workmen and those who looked like crew gave them half-interested looks as they passed. They walked underneath a gigantic propeller, each blade as long as the porch of pop's house. Here, several men were busy sawing plywood panels on sawhorses with a crosscut saw, in synchronicity with the rhythmic, oarsman like commands of a Russian man in a ruined old hat.

"Raz, Dva, Tree, Cheteree!" He counted, the men swinging the big saw back and forth. "Raz, Dva, Tree, Cheteree!"

"Wonder what they're building?" said mordecai in a hushed tone.

"Looks like a building!" Rigby replied, pointing to a wooden frame that was already starting to go up a ways away.

The thing that they had thought was a forklift went by, an enourmous machine that looked like a locomotive without rails, it had a high funnel and a big crane armature attached to a frame on it's front wheel bogey, along with two big whirling flywheels atop its boiler.

"Dude I wish we had one of those, work would be so much easier!" Rigby said, nudging Mordecai.

They arrived at what appeared to be the epicenter of the work. One of the big structures underneath the zeppelin had it's entire side opened up like a huge bay door, and materials and machinery were being rapidly removed from it in all manner of ways. A young man with a clipboard was looking over the scene, checking things off and talking to people as they went by.

"Oh great, another Bens – Oof!" Rigby began to say, interrupted by a sharp jab from Mordecai.

"Shut up dude, we don't even know him." Mordecai said.

They were surprised when the young man turned around. By his face, scarred slightly with the previous onset of bad acne, and despite a fierce unibrow, a large pointed nose, odd colored yellowish-green eyes and wrinkled features suggesting stress and exaggerated facial movements, he looked no more than eighteen years old. He had a tall, but punctuated stature, a rakish hunched back, an utterly concave chest, and long, square, twig-like arms and legs.

"Can I help you?" He said in a comparatively high pitched voice, looking around in a confused, attempting-to-locate-something face.

"Yeah, we're employees from the park, we just wanted to know like...if uhh...you had a permit to land your...uh...Zeppelin...here." Mordecai said, then tried not to come off as too up-front and abrasive by countering, "If you don't it's cool and all, our boss probably knows something we don't."

"Ah, employees of the park eh?" The boy said. "I'd better introduce myself, I am Alexander Edward Karnes, out of Mystic Connecticut, and first class ASME licensed steam engineer at your service!" He said, saluting them. "And good on you for knowing the proper name for this old silver cigar!" Alex continued, looking admiringly up at the Zeppelin. "Not many people know to call it a Zep, most call it a _Blimp_...oh how the uneducated infuriate me." He shuddered at the word blimp like a child would shudder when swallowing bad-tasting food.

Mordecai raised an eyebrow.

"Anyway." Alex said, "I digress. I recently bought a land permit here, I believe the other side of the railroad tracks isn't park property due to zoning laws. I bought the property outright and I am erecting a workshop here. Don't worry about old Wanderer here, she'll be all rigged up and steaming out of here by tomorrow."

"Hehe he said Erecte – Oof!" Rigby was again silenced by a punch. "Stop that!"

"Wanderer?" Mordecai asked.

"Oh, pardon me, that's the name of my Dirigible here!" Alex said, grinning.

"This is your airship?" Mordecai asked.

"Well, not mine, but everyone here, but yes I helped design her, I supervised and aided in her monumental construction effort, physically and financially, and ever since she took that wonderful first flight out of Niantic, I have engineered, steered and captained her."

"And you're only..."

"Eighteen years old, and boy I feel like im eighty five." Alex cut Mordecai off, laughing scratchily, then coughing. "You could say, my friend, that I was born a hundred years too late!"

Mordecai smiled. He liked Alex, just after these few minutes of talking with him.

"Well, its good to meet you." Said Mordecai, shaking Alex's hand, who returned the handshake heartily.

"It's good to know the people in this town are so welcoming and willing to listen to you!" Alex stated, grinning widely again. "Most people make an awful racket when they see an airship fly over their town, and chrimatey you should see the way the enviros get up my drypipe when they find out what im up to, boilers and whatnot."

Mordecai nodded and replied, "Well, you might think we're nice and all, but a lot of the people around here can be quite...abrasive."

"Hey, im glad I met you first then!" Alex returned. "What say you show me around town later when I finish work here?"

Mordecai nodded again, happily.

"So when's the airship gonna blow up!" Mordecai asked eagerly, half-joking.

Alex scowled harshly.

"Blow up? It would be those who know what a Zeppelin is to only take example from a ship as famous and misfortunate as the Hindenburg!" He said, disgustedly. "We only use non-flammable Helium in our ships, not that infernal explosive hydrogen."

Mordecai punched Rigby in the shoulder, the latter promptly casting his eyes down.

"This might be just the change I was asking for!" Mordecai thought to himself, again looking up at the Dirigible. "Someone who could actually be a friend to me, someone who seems to have his foot in the door of the world!" He marveled at the gigantic piece of engineering which towered all around him.

"Im hungry as hell." Rigby thought to himself.

"-Oh, and one other thing." Alex checked himself, turning back around. "I must apologize, I seem to have landed on one of your fountains. The crew and I made sure the landing site was clear before we set down, but I just found this fountain crushed to bits underneath number two gondola!" Alex pointed to the wreckage of white ceramic and puddles of water underneath one of the superstructures.

Mordecai and Rigby stared in disbelief. "We've only got one fountain, how did it get here!"

* * *

><p>The duo returned to the old house up on the hill on the golfcart. Benson was there waiting for them, his stickish little arms crossed.<p>

"Where have you been, I sent you to go check on that thing two hours ago, and since then I've just been informed!" Yelled the gumball machine angrily as they pulled to a stop. "Someone bought some of the property along the borderlands of the park and is setting up a workshop there, he brought in the building on a Zeppelin."

"We know Benson, we just had a talk with him." Mordecai said, a cheerful look on his face, which was quickly stifled when Benson furiously assigned them a long and tedious job.

"Arggh, this had better not take long." Mordecai grumbled as they pulled out the old lawnmower. "We've gotta meet Alex later to show him around town."

"Bah, first Margaret and now Alex, you don't have any time for US anymore man!" Rigby complained.

"Dude, you don't get it, he actually doesn't hate our guts, and he brought his workshop in on a flying ship, I think we could really benefit from knowing him in the long run."

"Whatever." Rigby skulked, starting the lawnmower up. They both hopped on and ran the old machine around the grounds. It was hot, mist rose from the wet grass as the drew evaporated.

"This is awful!" Rigby yelled over the engine.

"Hey, be glad it isn't a push-mower!" Mordecai replied. "Besides, we're nearly done."

The smell of freshly cut grass filled the air as they worked on and on, back and forth across the wide field.

"Benson, can we punch out?" Mordecai asked, panting. It was simply too hot to go any further, and at any rate they had finished the field.

Benson looked over the field.

"Fine, I see a few spots you missed, but fine, see if I care. Its not like I'm PAYING you for this!" He stated, getting angrier and angrier. The gumball machine walked off.

Mordecai went as fast as he could back to the house, panting harder along the way in the intense heat. He found the golfcart where he had left it before, and jumped in, followed sulkily by Rigby, and they set off.

Mordecai remembered the way, and it wasn't long before they found themselves rolling down the hill towards the landed Zeppelin.

It was quiet and peaceful, Cicadas made their trademark noise accompaniment to the tall, dry grass. The workmen milled about no more, and the only movement from the ship was the hazy wafting smoke from one of it's eight stacks.

Where all the work had been taking place now stood a building, the ground around it littered with the scuff marks of heavy machinery, bits of scrap wood and metal and discarded scaffolding. It was four stories high and as wide as an airplane hangar, made of out of a wooden frame with corrugated aluminum siding, and it's front sporting a gaping door. The large structure was still dwarfed by the airship that had carried it's pieces here.

As they walked up under the shadow of the behemoth, Mordecai called out,

"Hello, anyone home in there?" After long pauses, walking between the gondolas and underneath the trusswork, he repeated his call.

"Oi, ill be with you in a minute!" Said a familiar voice, echoed with distance. They heard the slamming of a window high above their heads.

Rigby kicked the grass with boredom, watching as the beige dust flitted away into the air.

"Remember all those dust-kicking matches we used to have at the baseball field Mordecai?" Rigby asked.

Mordecai was about to reply, when a small door in the side of the gondola opened up. It was Alex.

"Hey guys, crew's out on shoreleave so why don't you come inside, I bet you'll be wanting to cool off?

The Jay and Raccoon nodded vigorously.

"My ship is your ship!"

The room they stepped into was actually hotter than it was outside.

"Sorry folks, this is the engine room, and the blowers aren't running!" Alex apologized.

Rigby and Mordecai almost forgot the heat when they looked up at what they saw.

They were standing in the very corner of an immense open space filled with seething hot, grease covered machinery, the ship's engine room.

Three immense scotch-marine boilers towered just in front of them, surrounded by square casings filled with cladding and painted a sharp industrial red, which was slathered with soot and filth and chipped. Behind these could be seen the castings of great turbines and genorators, also painted in the same industrial red, and equally as abused.

Alex lead them up a catwalk right next to the boilers. Through the firebox grates, they could see flickering orange light, heard the dull percolation of water, and felt intense radiative heat. The radiant heat from the metal monsters was staggering. Around the front of the long metal cylinders.

"This is our engine room, everything that makes Wanderer tick is housed here." Alex said, proudly. "These here are the main boilers, oil burners, and these here are the burners themselves." He patted the casing jutting out from the end of one of the great cylinders. A big turbine with a motor hooked to it, like that on the furnace in the Basement of pop's house that was constantly acting up, except a hundred times bigger. Next to it was an ancient control box with big toggle switches and glaring electric lights, with all kinds of control labels in bold red text.

"These burners can shoot a twenty foot flame down the fluepipes when we get these things going full tilt." Alex said.

Atop the boilers ran another catwalk, which allowed access to myriads of big valves and gauge-clusters.

"See, main steam comes outta there at three hundred pounds per square inch." Alex explained.

"It goes throuuughh that big pipe over your heads there..." He continued, swinging his arm and pointing. "And right into those turbines." "We can run any turbine off of any boiler or any combination of the three, in case anything fails."

The big round turbine casings sat on the other side of their catwalk, their big shafts and bearings exposed. "Those turbines are fifteen megawatts each, and turn genorators. Those, in turn, power the electric motors outside the ship's hull which spin the propellers. Because the ship cant lift herself on gas buoyancy alone, we've got those big rotors up top there for additional vertical lift. Those are powered by reciprocating uniflow steam engines up top, with an engineering room for each one. To avoid line condensation, we put the steam through a steam dryer and then a superheater before we send it up there." Alex pointed to several more large pipes, which lingered around the boilers and then darted up into the ceiling. "We've also got some independent diesel maneuvering engines inside Nacelles on the outside of the ship, we've got it all on board this thing. Those down there are the feed-pumps, which feed the boilerwater and condensed water from the hotwell. Our condensers are inside the stacks, helical-jet types which cool as the steam ascends, here come with me."

Alex lead them to a large pipe on the side of a big tank, which was painted in a dark industrial blue.

"This is the condenser sump where we retrieve all the condensed steam, and this is the cold-side pipe, lean up against it." Alex instructed.

Rigby and Mordecai did so, the pipe was deliciously cold to the touch.

"Aaahhh yyyeeyaaahhh." They both sighed as the tremendous heat was abruptly sucked away from them. Alex joined them.

"This line leads to an intercooler outside the ship, cold water is forced through here by one of the feedpumps and helps cool the steam that needs to be condensed." Alex said. "It's always cold here, and underneath the blower, and that's where you'll usually find the engineers when work is slow. It wont stay cool for long though, because I de-vacuumized the tank. In a bit ill take you guys up to the crew lounge, and that's air conditioned. We've got enough power by keeping number one boiler in steam to run the AC compressor, thank goodness for that."

Rigby and Mordecai were too tired and absorbed in the wonderful coldness of the steel pipe to listen to him, the only thing they payed attention to was "AC."

After they had cooled off somewhat, Alex lead the duo up out of the pulsating room of harnessed energies, and up a dark corridor. As soon as they left the engine room, freezing air being shot through the forced ventilation shafts greeted their wanting skin, feathers, and fur.

"Oooohhhohohooo god that feels so good." Rigby panted.

"That's all from that big compressor over on the side." Alex said.

Up a vertical shaft on an archaic, wrought iron spiral staircase, between cloth stretched over massive stamped metal framework.

"These are the lifting gas chambers." Alex related, pointing all around them.

They soon left the staircase, long before reach it's top, and boarded a catwalk that was so long and narrow, it must have run the length of the ship. They traversed this for what seemed quite a long time, and then came to another vertical shaft, this one with large ladders. Alex lead them down the ladder below them, and through a hatch door.

The ladder changed from metal to wood below the hatch, and they climbed down onto the mezzanine of a spacious, two-story room. All about the walls in the back part of the room, shaped like a giant "U", were the bookshelves of a library, and a tracked ladder for them. Forward of these were great glass windows to either side, ending in a front wall covered in a mural depicting an industrial city with kin airships to "Wanderer" hovering about above it's foundries and aqueducts. Against this wall stood two gigantic, imposing grandfather clocks. The floor was spacious and mostly empty, save four tables which bore the clichéd, green-glass shaded library lamps. A figure sat at one, using a laptop computer.

"This is the ship's library, it's one of two recreational spaces aboard the ship besides the lounge. It's also the most air-conditioned part of the airship." Alex explained with a laugh.

As they descended the staircase from the mezzanine, the figure at the table looked up.

"Ah, mister Hancock!" Alex greeted him jovially.

"Hello Karnes." He replied back.

"Mordecai, Rigby, I'd like you to meet my friend John Hancock. And no, not THAT John Hancock." Alex explained. "If it shoots something or can inflict mechanized injury in any way, John here loves it, and he's got the video-game bug."

"Guilty as charged." John replied. "And you know what they say, all toasters toast lotsa spaghetti!"

"He's an internet junkie too." Alex related. "John, these are some new friends of mine, Mordecai and Rigby. They came to see the airship when we landed."

"So, you like shooter-games?" Rigby asked John.

"Oh I live for them!" John replied, excitedly. "And im a gun-guy outside the virtual world as well, in fact Alex here is helping me with the starting costs of opening a paintball and airsoft gun and supply store."

"Ohh duuude, I've been waiting for one of those to open here _forever_!" Rigby replied, putting up a bro-fist. John responded with the same. "Ill be your first costumer!" Rigby continued.

Mordecai rolled his eyes.

"John, ill have Martin and Slavomir come help you unpack in the store later, alright?" Alex said.

"Sure Man, and I like that building we chose to rent, nice and spacious." John replied.

"Yep, just don't go shooting the walls, theres a damage premium to the rental." Alex chuckled.

"Oh you KNOW I will!" John replied.

"So I believe we made plans to go around town?" Alex asked Mordecai.

"Yes, yes, why don't we get going now?" Mordecai asked. "C'mon Rigby."

"No way man!" Rigby hissed. "This John guy is awesome, I wanna hang out here!"

Mordecai was about to protest, but Alex cut him off.

"You can stay if you want, after all it's way cooler in here, and it's not like you'd blow the ship up or anything." He said, eyeing Rigby in jest.

"Its cool, ill make sure he don't destroy nothin." Said John.

* * *

><p>The golfcart ran down the uneven dirt road, Alex and Mordecai aboard.<p>

"This is the park, really big place, the biggest part of the town." Mordecai related. "Absolutely nothing interesting happens here, and the people who run it are all wacko's."

"That bad?" Alex asked.

"Yeah, we got a gigantic brawn-head that loves playing elaborite pranks, and he's the coolest of all of them." Mordecai said. "He has a friend named high-five ghost, who is a ghost that never talks and gives high fives all day. Then theres pops, hes the rich guy who lives in the only property in the park, and he's over the hills and far away. Skips is a Yeti who practices mysticism and fixes all the problems that happen around here, and Benson a talking gumball machine who is our manager, he's got serious anger issues."

Alex was silent for a moment.

"What you think of that ensemble?" Mordecai asked, grinning sarcastically.

"A talking...gumball machiinnne..." Alex pondered quietly, looking forwards, a smile creeping across his face.

"An Irritable, talking gumball machine?" Alex suddenly asked, whirling.

Mordecai nodded nervously.

"That's absolutely the most completely brilliant thing I've ever heard of!" Alex laughed and laughed. "I must meet this man – err...object! Why, that's even more of a hilarious concept than the Urine-filled softball!"

Mordecai laughed too. It was quite funny when one thought about the concept, and he never usually did. He was growing to like Alex's sense of humor.

"Mordecai, it sounds like your up to your eyeballs in trouble with that crowd, as you lead me to believe." Alex said.

"Right, we've gotten into so much trouble here. I don't think Benson has the nerve to fire us because I think he needs the help, but hes gotten pretty darn close, and a couple times, to be honest, Rigby and I have almost gotten killed."

Alex's eyes widened.

"You don't say, stuff that crazy happens here?"

"Yep, and worse." Mordecai related to Alex a small portion of their run-ins and strange occurrences, namely the master prank-caller and the summer-song cassette tape.

Alex laughed and laughed, declared he was absolutely appalled at the situation, and then laughed again.

"Mordecai my boy, I would like to offer you some help with this situation of yours, I have learned that a little diplomacy, tact with words and some good old steam-driven machinery can fix anything!" Alex said, grinning in an uncannily friendly way. "You see, I make it my business and my self-declared responsibility to fix broken things!"

They pulled up next to a maintenance shed, where Benson was standing, tapping his foot and tallying up rakes and tools.

"Benson, uhh, that guy who bought the property along the edge of the park...kinda wants to meet you."

Benson turned around.

"My goodness, he wasn't lying!" Alex exclaimed, approaching Benson and attempting to turn the small handle on his chest, to both Benson's and Mordecai's anger and shock.

"Step off cretin!" Benson yelled, darting backwards and holding up his clipboard like a shield. The scalding remark seemed to just bounce right off of Alex.

"Oh, please forgive me mister...Benson is it?" He said. "It is a pleasure to meet you, and I must say quite a fine park you keep!" He reached out and vigorously shook benson's hand, the latter surprised by his friendliness and eloquence.

"You see I was wondering about getting a supplementary job during my stay here to help bolster my income, but I only wanted to work at a place I could be useful, I think this is such a place and I would like to inquire about a job!" Alex rattled off.

"You just opened a workshop, and you want to work here?" Benson asked, surprised.

"Yes yes, you see I rather enjoy manual labor that noone else has time to do, it gives me time to think and it's good for the body, plus I think I could give you some mechanized help around here, namely in the lawn care and agricultural department." Alex replied, looking towards a large vegetable patch.

"Well...alriiight..." Benson raised an eyebrow. "I'll give you a trial period to see how you do, work hard and tow the line or out the door you go." He said, frankly.

"Thank you sir, thank you this will help me greatly." Alex beamed, again shaking his hand.

* * *

><p>Mordecai and Alex rushed down the crowded streets of the small city.<p>

"I cant believe you got Benson to give you a trial period!" Mordecai said, grinning.

"Yeah I cant either, I thought he was gonna punch me when I tried to turn his handle." Alex cackled, looking around.

"Interesting place!" He said, not approvingly but not disapprovingly, he usually made up his mind about wether he liked a place or not very quickly, be he couldn't decide. It was a small city, barely a city at all, more like a town that wanted to impersonate something larger with a few cheaply-built highrise buildings, and apartments at that, disguised with the glass and metal flourishes typical of commercial buildings containing high end businesses.

"It looks nice." Said Mordecai. "But don't let it fool you, at least to someone like me, a lot of people in this town can be very unfriendly."

"It sounds like you don't much like living here!" Alex stated, laughingly.

"I don't." The jay replied, sadly.

"Oh."

"That there is the movie theatre, nothing really good ever plays there."

Alex nodded.

"This here is the function hall, the last thing that happened there was a town meeting a year ago, and that is town hall over there." Mordecai pointed to a stately, well-built stone and marble edifice with a tremendous oil lantern hanging over the door. It was the first proper structure Alex had seen that day.

"Now Ill take you to really the only place I like hanging out." Mordecai said. "There's a little café that specializes in good coffees and teas."

"Oh, sounds nice, but I don't drink coffee or tea."

Mordecai was stunned.

"But you look so juiced up all the time, you don't drink coffee?" he asked, bewildered.

"No sir, it's bad for the nerves and it does a body bad, plus it creates dependencies that are worse than the _illegal_ drugs." Alex firmly stated. "I bet you cant get up without drinking it in the morning, am I right?"

Mordecai nodded sheepishly.

"There you go." Alex finished. "Although I would like to see this café."

"I don't really go just for the drinks though." Mordecai admitted. Alex seemed like a very trustworthy individual right off the bad. It often took Mordecai awhile to read someone, but unless this eloquent, opinionated, knowledgeable, cheery and completely rigid and endearingly dauntless personality was a façade, he could read Alex like a book.

"Mhm?" Alex raised an eyebrow.

"See, theres this girl I like who works there." Mordecai related. "She is the light of my life."

Alex broke into a wide smile, and narrowed his eyes to slits, his face wrinkling up.

Mordecai laughed. "No no, its not what you think, she and I were childhood friends, and I found here working here a few years back, I've had the biggest crush on her forever."

"Oooohhhohohooo, you're a romantic you are." Alex said through his scrunched up grin. "I guess I am too, but I never had time for it with all the engineering, plus im not really one for relationships, I thrive on watching other people's flourish. "Is it going anywhere with her?"

"Hardly." Mordecai replied, dejectedly. He explained the situation. "Every time she gets a new boyfriend, it lasts about three days and then they break up and she gets another one before I can even do anything. And it's not like I can even say anything, I'm a coward."

"Now." Alex said, reproachfully. "A coward you are not, I have seen this before, eleven times in fact, she steals your words away mate. Only the right one does that to you, trust me, if shes not the right one, you can talk to her without losing your head."

"Margaret and I go way back." Mordecai said. "We knew eachother from first to fifth grade, then she switched schools and I never saw her again, but during that time we were more than good friends, we did everything together. I met rigby just around the time she left my life, and we became best friends. I ran into her again the year before last year, she had gotten a job as a waitress in the coffeeshop. I was so happy to see her again, and that little crush I had been developing on her, and her memory when she was gone just exploded."

Alex listened intently.

"I've got to say I'm in love with her." Mordecai said. "But it just tears me up every time she gets a new boyfriend, what if she meets mister right, and they stick together, ill lose her forever."

Alex could tell that he meant what he said, this wasn't some passing teenage phase or minor interest.

"You in tragic shape, buddy!" he said. "Introduce me to this Margaret if you please!" Alex wanted to size her up, to make sure he wasn't exaggerating, or blind to a hidden badside. He figured it really wasn't his business, but he at least wanted to see if something had a chance to spark. Little did he know what he was to cause.

Mordecai's head filled with images of his red-headed sweetheart, until he was rudely interrupted by Alex.

"Mordecai, watch out!"

The cart had drifted into the other lane in front of an oncoming bus.

"Holy crap!" Mordecai swerved right, and then left again, narrowly avoiding a sedan and hitting the curb in front of the café.

"H-here we are." He said, shakily.

"No worries." Alex replied, dusting himself off. "I've had much worse, looks like you destroyed the parking meter though!"

"WWWHHHYYYHYHYHYYYYYYYY" Shrieked the parking meter as it died in painful spasms.

The Jay and the hunch-backed boy marched in through the front door.

"Interesting." Alex stated, with a tone of voice as flat as the color of the walls. "Very interesting indeed. Good on you them for having an antique fire-alarm, that does a heart good."

Mordecai tilted his head as Alex examined the small red box high up on the wall, and then went to scout out a table.

"Something else." He thought to himself.

When Mordecai sat down at the table, he found Alex scribbling in a small sketchbook.

"Do pardon me." He said, without looking up. "I do this whenever I have the time, it's how I get ideas down." He was drawing some obscure piece of machinery, and making little notes.

"Hey Mordecai!" came a soft, feminine voice from over the counter, causing both at the table to look up.

"Margaret, good to see you again." Mordecai called to her, waving.

"Is everything okay?" She asked. "I remember you rushing off after that – thing went over town."

"Yes, and the most amazing thing has happened because of it!" replied Mordecai.

He introduced Alex to her, who nodded his head politely and gave his "ASME steam engineer, first class, at your service." greeting, like a recorded message. He then explained about the airship, the workshop Alex was to open, and the store his friend was to open, also about how Alex had, for some reason, taken a trial period for a job in the park. Margaret was floored.

"That's rad!" Margaret exclaimed. Alex raised an eyebrow. "What a big day for the town, two new businesses opening up!" She continued. "Is there any way I can help?"

"Ill pencil you in if I need anything, thanks!" Alex replied.

"So what'll you have?" she asked.

"Water." Alex said.

"Frap." Mordecai followed.

"Cool guys, be right back."

As soon as Margaret was out of earshot, Alex glared at Mordecai.

"Get with her." he ordered.

"What dude?" Mordecai asked, befuddled.

"Get with her immediately if not sooner." Alex said. "she's perfect for you."

"I cant just..."

"Get with her."

"But, you don't understand, she has..."

"_Get with her."_

"Alex, I have to..."

"Gggeeetttt wwwwiiittthhhh hhhhheeerrrr." He said, pronouncing every word in great detail, his unibrow expressing large amounts of feigned anger. "Mordecai, I am good at reading people, plus the way you look at her, the way she looks at you even, sir you have _more_ than a good chance."

"Don't be stupid." Mordecai tried to laugh it off.

"Im serious." Alex replied. "I may be Russian, but I have flown to France." Alex began deftly ripping something out of the placemat, a stylized paper mustache with curved ends, he colored it black with his pen, and smacked it onto his face.

"And we in Fránce, besides having a lot of vice und cream, ship-lofting and pock-picketing, have much, much of ze romance, the word even rhymes vith ze countrie, zat is vhy ve have ze topless beaches along the Baltic shoresss."

Mordecai burst out laughing.

Margaret came up with their order.

"Here you go guys." She said, setting down the mug and the glass.

"Vhy thank you, mademoiselle." Alex said in his best Poirot impression, whirling towards her, mustache slightly tilted. "Although I am not French at all, I am Belgish!" She too burst out in peels of laughter.

"Just a minute now, I must go find a flag holder." Alex stated, dropping the accent.

He downed his glass of water in two seconds flat, got up and scuffled toward the far corner of the room.

Mordecai looked uneasily toward Margaret, she was still laughing. To him, it was the sweetest sound in the world, and he drank it in, hating the moment when it eventually subsided.

"So, M-Margaret, I was wondering, you...maybe..."

"Yeah?" She asked, a slight note of eagerness in her voice, which completely threw off Mordecai.

"You got the time?"

Margaret raised an eyebrow. "Yeah." She looked at the very large and obvious clock on the wall. "It's four-o-seven."

"Thanks, yeah that's a good...time."

"Anything else you need?"

"No, not right now anyway, thanks."

"Alright, see you later then!"

Margaret stepped away, and Mordecai clenched his teeth and put his head down. He was filled with an awful feeling, he couldn't hold her there, talk to her. He originally had it in his mind to invite her to come look at the airship, but of course not. Something like that would be a great conversation-starter, among other things, and now it would never happen, for as Alex had said, the airship would be departing tomorrow.

Alex stomped over.

"You sir, if you beg my sincerest pardons, are pathetic."

"Hey, shut it!" Mordecai retorted. "Why do you care so much?"

"Look mate." Alex said. "I was in your exact shoes once, your exact shoes. And I was afraid, afraid into silence, and there was noone there to get me to speak when I should have. Know what happened? I lost her forever."

The anger left Mordecai's expression.

Alex continued, "I lost her, and the worst part is, afterward, she took me aside, and she told me that she had always felt the same way about me that I felt about her, but she too was afraid, afraid of _my_ silence. That was the final blow and the last straw, after that day, I devoted my life entirely and solely to the pursuits of knowledge and higher learning, engineering, the higher sciences. No more romance, no more magic or unexplainable things, I tried to drown out my emotions behind whirling wheels and hot pipes. Don't get me wrong, I am loving life, I have gotten so far, I have helped build ships that fly in the air, I have brought life back to machines cast off more than a hundred years ago, I travel to far off places and see wonderful things, but it all hurts, Mordecai."

"Duuuuudde." Mordecai replied. "That's rough, that's really rough."

"So don't make the same mistake!" Alex said, energetically. "Mordecai, I was lucky enough to have something to catch my fall, my intense interests, loves and ambitions kept me going, and that's all that keeps me going! Unless im mistaken, what do you have to fall back on?"

Mordecai scratched the back of his head, uneasily.

"Videogames, a dead-end job, and an idiot best friend."

"Exactly." Alex nodded. "And having Margaret with you could fix everything."

Mordecai knew this very well, but he also knew that he didn't have the courage to talk to Margaret about anything deeper than the weather or the time. He wondered at why Alex couldn't say how he felt to the one he had loved, to him, he seemed like such an outgoing, "I don't care what anyone else and the moon thinks" kind of person, it seemed like he could say anything to anyone, and dodge a resulting punch if necessary, but here he was, laying himself out on the table for Mordecai's benefit. It seemed as if this stipule of not being able to speak of love was a common trait that resided in everyone, with no exceptions, not even the oddball wayfaring engineer like Alex. The only people it did not seem to exist in were the hulking, brainless, violent, oafish men that Margaret always seemed to be with. If this was true, then he had no hope at all. It was a wonder that any relationships even existed.

"Hey man, I gotta go." Mordecai said, finishing his drink.

"Thanks for the tour of the town, and remember what I said, mate." Alex replied, saluting.

As soon as Mordecai was out the door, he ran as fast as he could, away from the shop, wiping away a tear of hopelessness. He hadn't felt this low in a long time.

* * *

><p>Rigby's jaw dropped. In front of him was the greatest array of sport weaponry possibly ever collected into one room. Paintball guns, Airsoft guns, compound bows, recurve bows and crossbows. There was a five-foot long Gatling gun that shot paintballs with a pricetag on it for seventeen-hundred dollars.<p>

"Joohhhnnn, you _win forever_!" Rigby screamed. Their hands met in a "bro-fist" and they both shouted.

"So yeah this is the shop, I really owe Alex for helping me with the starting costs." John said.

"But dude you should have this all payed back soon, between your prices and the way people like me eat this stuff up around here!" replied Rigby.

"True, hey wanna try out that gatling?"

"Oh god you didn't just say that."

"Oh yes I DID." John grinned.

Rigby flung himself at the glass case, not realizing it was closed, and hit the pane with a thud. He slid down with the noise typically made by a squeegee.

* * *

><p>Mordecai sat up in the poorly furnished little room in the large old house that he and Rigby called their own. He had his face buried in his hands, and was in deep thought. What Alex had said was really bugging him, he did not want to end up like his newly made friend, he knew all too well what it was to be alone. It was different for Alex, and seemingly everyone else, for he, and everyone else, seemed to have friends, resources, and other enjoyable facets of life as a distraction. Mordecai wanted something to share with the world, something he could call his own. He didn't even have a gumball to his name, not even those that Benson spewed at him in fits of rage.<p>

Most of all, though, Mordecai did not want to be alone. He acted like he did sometimes when he needed to think, but he hated the notion of it. He had had an intense fear of being alone instilled in him from events in his childhood. He wanted someone to love, someone who loved him. Rigby had been his best friend for a long time, but he was so used to his constant antics and immaturity that it was numbing. Rigby was tiring sometimes, just downright tiring. He seemed to have no depth, and what little depth he did have was filled with self-inflicted mis-information which he concocted himself via paranoia or jealousy. This opinion was bolstered further when Rigby burst through the door.

"Dude Mordecai, you wont believe what just happened!" He exclaimed.

"Not now dude, I really cant hear it right now."

"But man, the new paintball store is amazing, John even said he might need help there!"

"Dude, that's great, now can you leave me alone?"

"Why you being so dumb?"

"Ugh." Mordecai covered his head with the pillow. "At least I have a bed." He thought to himself, looking at Rigby's laundry-covered trampoline.

"Hey, dude, could you shut off the lights?" Mordecai asked, irritatedly.

"Are you kidding?" Rigby replied, with a dumbfounded expression. "It's six oclock."

"I know." Mordecai replied. He wanted to sleep, to put the sadness inside him to temporary rest. He knew that tomorrow the pain would dull again and life would return to the idiotic norm.

"Whatever man." Rigby said, switching off the lights and going through the door. "Ill be downstairs if you decide to stop being an idiot."

Mordecai got up, closed the big, luckily quite opaque, window shades all the way, and sank down into his hard, cheap mattress.


	2. Through The Twilight of The Morn

It was an odd, disturbing sleep. Mordecai dreamt he was falling down elevator shafts that turned into the insides of great, indescribable creatures. He dreamt he was hurtling through space, away from blue earth, towards black emptiness. He dreamt of his sweet Margaret, far away on the sea in a little white boat, while he sat on a rocky coastline. Lastly, he dreamt that the great ship of the skies, the Wanderer, was descending upon him in an open field, her hull engulfed in hellish fire, debris and pieces of the once elegant and beautiful machine falling down upon him.

* * *

><p>Mordecai awoke with a start. The clock read five-forty AM. It was dark out, the room was pitch black, Rigby was still asleep.<p>

Mordecai sank back into the bed, breathing hard. The severity of the dreams, combined with the memories of the previous day, filled him with a profound sadness. These feelings were all relatively new to him, seeming to come with the arrival of the great ship. Strange new things were afoot. He was also filled with a tremendous urge to see the ship, at least one more time, before it left on its next long journey to who knows where. He needed to see the grand piece of engineering, half made out of the loneliness of her own creator. He needed to see the ship intact and peaceful again after the violent dream he had.

Mordecai donned his light, worn jacket and easily shut the door, ensuring to not wake Rigby. Down into the dark foyer, and out the front door he went.

It was a beautiful night, the cool summer air greeted his face and nostrils, lightening his spirit. The crescent moon was shining, casting a faint blue moonlight over the otherwise black silhouette of the ground that ended in the horizon. It was morning-twilight, a dim purplish color. For some reason, budget cuts or otherwise, none of the lamp-posts were on. Mordecai was glad of this, he didn't like their harsh glare in the peaceful hours of the dark.

Over the fields the Jay strolled. The grass was cool and wet under his feet.

He could just picture the Wanderer, absolutely still and silent, shrouded in the Dusk of the morn. He would walk underneath the great hull, and sit deep within its shadow, and try to ease his loneliness. Mordecai had not felt able to cry in nearly fifteen years, but now, those familiar childhood pangs were returning to him. He felt, the coming of this airship marked the end of some sort of Era, and what came next was more coldness, even more solitude than before. He was tired of Rigby, and he had already resolved to avoid Margaret to avoid the heartache. Alex would surely be too busy to talk to. Up came the rise and the hedgerow that Mordecai now knew so well. Going over it, he was astonished at what he saw.

Wanderer sat down in the valley, a vibrant, colorful being pulsating with light and life. Black smoke poured from the six smokestacks, golden light spewed from every window, and all manner of odd, booming, mechanical noises were issuing from deep inside the core of the ship. Every now and then, he heard a bell, or a series of bells, an echoed shout, followed by an oscillation from some piece of the ship of another. Little lights were winking on all over the silvery hull, red, green and blue.

Mordecai sprinted down the hill. As he ran, faster and faster, he stumbled across the railroad tracks. He tripped down the embankment, and as he was picking himself up, a deep, throaty noise filled the air. It started off as a hiss, but then grew into a melodic roar of steam through brass chimes, a deep and beautiful whistle. It rose in pitch and intensity as the warmth of steam reached it in ever increasing pressure, and the white plume it made could be seen high atop the hull. Simultaneously, as if in response and quite suddenly, searchlights all over the ship flicked on with loud, electromechanical "thwack" noises. Searing golden flares of light, with conical beams radiating from them, placed in no coherent fashion, some shining at the ground, some shining at the horizon in all directions, and some shining directly up at the sky.

Mordecai drew near the ship, and saw that the hatch in the engineroom gondola, the very one he had entered through earlier the previous day, was standing open, spewing a yellow, distorted rectangle of light on the ground. A need filled him, a sudden need to enter through that door. Mordecai sprinted as hard as he could, crossed the threshold, and stumbled to a stop in the middle of a dinuous bedlam of noise and motion.

Bright lights blared from the ceiling and walls, a roar louder than any he had heard filled the room. The radiant heat from the three great boilers was overwhelming, crewmen rushed around, this way and that, adjusting controls and completing tasks.

"Batten down all the hatches mister Bilienkov, each and every one!" a familiar voice called.

Mordecai heard the door he had just entered through slam firmly shut.

"Mordecai?" It then asked. "What are you doing here?"

Mordecai whirled to see Alex.

"I came down to see what was happening because I couldn't sleep, what are you doing here?" Mordecai asked.

"I always assist and partake in Wanderer's takeoff's, it's a tradition of mine, never missed a single one and I don't intend to, she's my baby!" Alex replied. "One of many, I should say!"

"But I thought you were staying here, with us!" Mordecai said, exasperatedly.

"Oh but I am!" Alex grinned. "Cant get rid of me _that_ easily!" He laughed. "No need to be upset, I am seeing through the getting-her-off-the-ground-and-underway portion, after that of course I am disembarking! I say mate, you _do _seem a bit upset, you okay?"

"Rough afternoon, rough night." Mordecai replied. "What you said, it's getting to me."

"Sorry mate, but I think I know just what will get your mind off things, what say you help me and my crew here get this gigantic monstrosity into the air?"

Mordecai laughed, shook his head, and then nodded. "Love to."

"Right!" Alex said, stomping on the deck with invigoration, causing Mordecai to start backward. "AGHHH MC'O-LEAARRYY MAC'-GREGOR, WHERE ARE YOU!" He screamed.

A hatch in the floor suddenly burst upwards and flung sideways, revealing a decidedly Scottish face leering up at them.

"Whatisityawant thar boyo!" It jabbered at them.

"This is my Chief Engineer, Mc'Oleary Mac'Gregor!" Alex laughed with fiendish energy. "Its not his real name, but it's part of it and It's stuck!"

The Scotsman hoisted himself out of the hatch. "What ya need!"

"It's time to lift the ship!" Alex said. "Status of boilers?"

"Main steam is at full pressure and superheaters are pressurized!" Mac'Gregor stated.

"Right, spool all turbines to full RPM's and lets get those genorators turning!"

Mac'Gregor saluted and sprinted off, as did Alex. Mordecai followed Alex, who ran up on the catwalks atop the great boilers, with several other workmen. He exchanged quick questions and instructions with them, and then examined the rows and rows of big brass-rimmed, silvery faced gauges. Mordecai marveled at these, the needles are quivered restlessly and were steadily climbing. Alex ran down the other side and Mordecai followed. Up to the big steel turbine-casings. Alex had already grasped the big red wheel belonging to a stop-valve and was trying to turn it.

"Mordecai help me with this!" He yelled over the ambient noise. Mordecai, without a second thought, grabbed the big wheel and pulled it over. The big valve began to turn.

"Watch that rising stem!" Alex called. Mordecai stepped to the side as he turned, letting the big threaded valvestem protrude farther and farther out. A loud, drumming hiss echoed through the valvecasing and down the pipe. Gauges on the pipe after the valve suddenly whirled around and pegged themselves.

Over on the other side, MacGregor was furiously turning a valve parallel to theirs, near the oppsosite boiler. There was a third, and Mordecai guessed that all would have to be opened.

"Haha, first to open all the way gets to do the centervalve!" Alex screeched to MacGregor. Mordecai laughed and laughed as he turned the great wheel.

His mirth was interrupted by a frightening noise.

A deep vocal tone seemed to fill the room, and began to steadily increase in pitch and loudness. It turned into a steady whine, sounding just like a jet engine starting up. The whine split into two pitches, one trying to catch up with the other, and then three.

"Hear that beautiful sound?" Alex yelled. "That's the turbines starting up! That's what makes our big ship go! Isn't it marvelous?"

Mordecai looked at him and nodded, wide eyed and grinning. The sheer power could be felt through the floor and the air around him, he had never felt this full of energy before, it felt good.

"Ahh curses, MacGregor gets the centervalve!" Alex laughed, pointing to the chief engineer, who had now flung himself at the number two center stopvalve and was turning it. "Nevermind though, we get to do the genorators!"

Alex, again, ran off full tilt, and Mordecai followed, laughing.

Around the turbine casings to reveal whirling shafts. More gauges, indicating shaft revolutions, were steadily climbing as the jet engine whine still increased.

"Condenser pressure rising, standby to engage vacuum pumps!" shouted a crewman.

"Preparing to engage intercooler feedpumps!" replied another in a thick Russian accent. "Waterfeed to hotwell is now at full static vacuum, open main waterflow!"

"Mordecai!" Alex shouted, tapping him on the shoulder. "The genorators are turning now, we've got to get their fields excited so they'll make electricity! Throw this switch here when I tell you!" Alex pointed to a big black copper-terminalled knifeswitch on a ceramic panel covered in open fuses, big Edison-era gauges and metal boxes, in turn adorned with glaring lights and smaller switches.

"You guys ready?" Alex shouted to crewmen on two identical switches on the other two genorators.

"Da!" Came a voice.

"Nein...Ja, Ja!" Came another. "Bereit!"

"Throw fields!" Alex shouted.

Mordecai threw his switch, stifling his instinct to recoil from the tremendous lightningbolt-like arcs across the open switch terminals. Voltage and amperage gauges jumped.

"Rheostats to flight positions!" Alex continued, walking over to the panel with Mordecai and turning a large rotary dial clockwise.

The genorators hummed and whined, their brushes sparking.

Every electric light in the room suddenly pulsed brighter as the genorators vomited power into the ship's systems.

Alex ran off yet again, Mordecai following. He ran back around the turbines to the boilers. Mordecai stopped to notice the burners, roaring and spewing gigantic red flames into the central fluepipes of the boilers. Alex had stopped to the side of number one boiler, near several sets of communication tubes.

"MacGregor, excellent work as always, keep em' steaming!" Alex shouted.

"Aye sir, can do!" Macgregor saluted, making a waterfeed pump in the pit below crank into motion.

Alex yelled into one of the tubes.

"Captain Salisbury, Everything is up to full power down here, lets get this thing off the ground!"

An un-intelligible reply came up the tube.

The room around them began to reverberate with a far-away chugging noise, which increased in speed. This, combined with the roar of the burners, the deep but loud percolation of the boilers, the whirr and watery hiss of the feedpumps, the intense jet-whine of the turbines and genorators, and now the chugging, made talking completely impractical. A workman rapidly violated this logic by screaming into Alex's ear.

"Komrade Karnes, lift control reports all vertical lifting engines and rotors are turning at schpeed!"

Just then the ship jolted, the feeling of sitting statically on the ground suddenly went away. Mordecai got the feeling of an elevator beginning to ascend.

Big telegraph faces over their heads suddenly clanged to life. The big black needles danced across the wide, painted circles, to a unanimous "All Ahead One Third."

"All Ahead one third!" Several crewman shouted and repeated.

These calls were carried all the way to the electrical distribution panel, where crew routed power to the motors outside the ship which worked the forward-driving propellers.

Mordecai was tossed back by the ship beginning a steady acceleration.

Alex spread his legs to balance himself and laughed.

"Hahaha, Under-way!"

All around them, calls could be hard, being repeated from the bridge.

"Rigging out bow planes!"

"Yep, confirm all running lights and forward-looking searchlights are on!"

"Feedwater heating is good!"

"Maneuvering engine crew report half ahead thrust!"

"Stern planes to ten degrees pitch up!"

"Right rudder four degrees!"

"Bleed gas reservoirs into chambers for full buoyancy!"

Another clanging noise from the telegraphs.

"All ahead standard!" MacGregor shouted.

"Hold on Mordecai!" Alex shouted. "She's packing some real power now!"

The ship gently eased into a much greater acceleration, and Mordecai indeed did have to hold onto a nearby railing.

Alex again shouted into the tube.

"Bridge, where's captain Salisbury...Cap, s'that you? Excellent work as always sir, mister Salisbury the ship is in your charge, I cant think of anyone better to fly her for me, please see she gets back to Niantic hangar in one piece! I eagerly await getting her drydocked, she's getting a bit tired!"

Mordecai heard a hearty laugh and a muffled "Will do!" Up the pipe.

"Okay Mordecai, it's time we leave this beautiful old vessel and return to the earth!" Alex said.

"And how are we going to do that?" Mordecai asked, apprehensively.

"That's a surprise!" Alex shouted, running off again.

Mordecai followed Alex to the same spiral staircase they had entered before. This time, they only ran a fraction of the length of the previous corridor, and Alex lead him down through a hatch. They stood in a small messhall, aluminum on every side. It was cool, and small portholes to either side let in the morning twilight, which had grown brighter. It was quiet, beautifully quiet. The only features of the room were a rack along one of the walls, on which were hung old leather-strapped goggles, and scarves.

"You'll be needing these." Alex said to Mordecai, who put them on, again asking how they were to get off the ship.

Alex slid the door sideways and revealed the answer. A long flimsy catwalk lead outwards from the door into the open air, the black earth silhouetted far below, and the sky to every side. Out a little ways, hanging from a complex entrapment of trusswork, lifting gear and arresting-gear, which looked a lot like a big trapeze, was an old biplane. Something that looked left over from a vintage movie, it had big silvery cloth-covered wings, a bright blue fuselage striped with red, open cockpits, a big round radial engine and a funny looking hook atop it's wings, from which it hung from.

"Wha-whats THAT!" mordecai exclaimed, nonplussed.

"That, my fine fellow, is a beautiful example of an AVRO five-o-four-K variant biplane!" Alex replied proudly, donning his scarf and goggles. "Modified to be Zeppelin based to boot, I bought her as a wreck, fixed her up and modernized her with more modern navigational equipment, and a docking apparatus for airship landings."

"After you please, and get in the front seat!"

"Don't be ridiculous, I cant fly that thing!" Mordecai shouted, stumbling out onto he catwalk and grasping at the handrailings.

"Don't you be ridiculous!" Alex replied. "The back seat is where the controls are, it's that way for balance when theres only one guy in there! Now, step on the wings to get in, but be damn careful!"

Mordecai did so, and dove into the more protecting seat of the aircraft, catching a glimpse of the world, now hundreds of feet below. The airship loomed above them, her many searchlights cutting away in all directions without a rhyme or reason.

He looked around, he was sitting in a wicker chair of all things. Alex had just finished settling himself in the seat behind him, and was adjusting controls.

"Right, magnetos on, mixture set, let me just prime her." He said, taking a lever in his hand and oscillating it with all his might, pumping some obscure fluid into the engine.

"Right, contact, let's see if this new electric starter is going to work!"

Alex depressed a button. There was a loud whirr in front of Mordecai, and he looked to see the big wooden propeller start to turn around slowly.

"Cmon now sweetheart, I just gave you a nice run now stop mis-behaving!" Alex said, frustratedly, pumping the lever with his hand again, and adjusting others.

Suddenly, the engine banged, fire and smoke shot from the exhaust pipes below and to the sides. An intermittent clap and sputter filled the air.

"That's right, you stay with me now!" Alex moved controls frantically. The engine's speed increased and it began to fire more evenly. He revved it a bit, letting the RPM climb and then fall, the airplane swaying back and forth on its hook slightly.

"Right, off we go then!" Alex said. "Hold on to your hat Mordo me boy!"

Alex withdrew some obscure lever which hung down from above.

To Mordecai's sheer terror, the hook above their heads just gave way, and the plane dropped into a sudden and most un-expected free-fall.

Mordecai screamed as the plane nosed down, and the Zeppelin above their heads rapidly accelerated upwards and away, and began to get smaller. He clapped his wings over his face and _continued_ to scream as he heard Alex's hearty laughter behind him, and continued to scream still as the engine in front of him roared to what seemed it's highest speed. His stomach churned with the horrid feeling of uncontrollable fall, accelerating downwards. He felt tears streaming across his face as he kept one wing over his face, frantically grabbing at pieces of the plane with his other wing. Suddenly, he was pressed hard into his seat as he felt the plane swerve upward quickly. His sense of direction re-aligned with the earth as the airplane shook off its hectic fall, and he heard the motor throttle back and begin to cruise evenly. Above all, Alex's laughter over-powered that of the engine and the wind.

"Your – your fa - Fahahahoho, your face mate!" Alex cackled. "Ohh, so priceless, I am sorry Mordecai but that was absolutely hilarious!"

Mordecai just stared, he was too shocked and invigorated to reply. He looked up and out, all around at the morning sky. There was pinkish red in the East, the sun was just minutes from rising. Alex pulled back on the stick to ascend, and increased the throttle.

The plane easily rode the calm morning currents, and stepped higher into the sky, towards the black cigar-shaped silhouette that they had just fallen from.

Mordecai looked up and saw the ship in flight.

Wanderer lumbered through the morning air, easily as could be, trailing translucent smoke, cutting the sky with her hundreds of twinkling lights.

"We're only doing sixty knots now so she'll pull ahead!" Alex stated.

They drew up closer to the ship, roughly the same altitude, she towered above them, her four prominent steerage fins in exaggerated perspective.

As she began to draw away, rotors and propellers churning, Mordecai could only watch the shadowed splendor.

"Where is she going?" He asked, the first thing that came to mind.

"Oh, beyond the stars, behind the sky." Alex replied, wistfully, then coming back to himself, continued, "No sir, no, she's been there and back already. No sir, now she is going back to Niantic, her home port in my home state, where she is awaited by a warm, snug Hangar, built specially for her. She has been in constant service for three years straight, since she was first launched actually, doing odd jobs and major tasks alike, she has been to thirty countries on salvage operations! She has proven herself a good and steady ship, and now she is going back home to be drained of gas and drydocked, and she is going to get a major, thorough and much-needed overhaul!"

"That sounds wonderful." Mordecai replied, wistfully. "I could use an overhaul."

Alex chuckled. "We all could. When she gets back home, she is going to see her sister ship under construction, almost an exact twin save some improvements, we named her "Stargazer", and she's just as elegant and beautiful. Mind you shes a skinless framework right now, but her engines are almost done!"

The ship had drawn considerably further away now, and was now just a black shape in the sky, harboring thousands of twinkling lights.

Just then, the sun poked it's disc over the horizon, filling the sky with a ray of light, which illuminated the bottom sides of Wanderer from black to shining orange.

"Well, it's time we head for home then!" Alex said. "Home being the relative term I suppose, not mine, but yours!"

Mordecai nodded, looking after Wanderer.

"Not to worry, this wont be the last time you see her, I'm sure of it!"

Alex banked the plane right, and turned completely around, until his compass needle pointed in the opposite direction.

The engine, although loud, had a dull, soothing roar. Mordecai sank his head into the quieting scarf, and let the soothing rocking motion of the airplane put him to sleep.

* * *

><p>"Look, babydoll, to be frank, she's just so much better than you, she'll actually <em>have<em> sex when I ask for it, and to make a long story short, I cant have two girlfriends at once so uhh, see you later." Said the mohawked oaf, who promptly turned, victory-fisted himself, and then jogged down the street.

Margaret sat on the steps in front of the library, and buried her face in her hands. This was the eleventh, or was it the twelfth? The twelfth this year, that had walked out on her. She was tired, she was upset, and she felt sick to her stomach. Why couldn't she hold down a boyfriend? All she wanted was someone to keep her company, maybe to add a little danger and mystery to her life. Whenever she thought she had picked a good one, he turned out to be shallow and misunderstanding. She didn't know why she was drawn to these hulking, stupid, arrogant men, maybe it was just to make Mordecai jealous. Ah, Mordecai, her thoughts always returned to him. Always a good friend to her, she thought so much of him, but she didn't dare love a close friend, did she? Even if she did, she knew he wouldn't reciprocate. He barely talked to her, she barely even saw him outside of the blasted coffeeshop. She wanted to see him more, infinitely more. But no, she would inevitably continue the string of thoughtless, oafish morons, who would offer her no future, no real companionship. Just husky requests for sex in back alleys, and then demands for food, drink and favors in her place of work. And how did she even know Mordecai wouldn't be the same way? Or maybe it was her, after all, being walked out on twelve times wasn't a good thing, maybe it was her fault, maybe she was too stubborn. The only time she had ever dumped the guy was when "Slasher" had insulted Mordecai one too many times, she had slapped him in the face and walked away. Nobody talked like that about Mordecai in front of her, nobody.

Here she was, alone, in the Dusk of the morn, on the cold marble steps of the library, surrounded by deserted streets.

Tears began to roll down her cheeks, they fell onto her striped shirt. She looked down at her clothes, she looked ridiculous, like a mismatched circus clown and a cast-off doll. This only worsened her feelings.

"Something's just got to give." She sniffed.

At that moment, the sun poked it's way over the horizon, filling the sky with a wonderous red ray of light. It was also at that moment that a dull, profound and soothing noise became audible in the air all around her. Margaret looked up.

Through the haze of the morning, the pointed end of a cigar shaped hull that she had now seen once before, withdrew itself from over the gutter-overhang edge of the library roof.

It was covered now in hundreds of twinkling lights, red, green and blue. The many windows of it's gondolas and control decks shewn gold, welcoming light from inside, even at it's tremendous distance from the ground. Searchlight beams cut the air in all directions. The long shape took its time completely withdrawing itself from behind the edge of the roof, and it finally floated free after the very tip at the apex of its tail and the bottom of it's rudder drew free. The ship seemed to fill the entire sky, wafting smoke and steam as it went, its tail still directly over where she sat, and its nose over the outskirts of the town. It didn't seem completely there, for the haze changed it partially to the color of the surrounding air. She watched it, wide-eyed, until it faded and became a nondescript shape in the hazy, cloudless bowl of the sky.

* * *

><p>Mordecai awoke. The motor had changed from a dull roar to a slow, shaky idle. He saw the ground approaching, and looked back to see Alex, with an emotionless glare on his face, looking over the side of the fuselage. With his stature, the goggles and the scarf, he really did look like a relic from a hundred years ago.<p>

The railroad tracks shot underneath them and back, and then the plane touched down gently. The aircraft jumped and swayed as it's big wheels traversed the somewhat uneven ground. They slowed, the wind that passed over the wings began to cease. Alex stomped on the wheelbrakes rhythmically, keeping the plane from nosing over, until they drew to a complete stop and the tail-drag settled down on the grass. He cut fuel flow to the engine and it died away with a flurry of protesting sputters, coughs, and hisses, the big propeller defiantly flailing around until it came to an uneven stop.

"Welcome home!" Alex said, jovially, hopping out of the airplane and chocking the wheels. Mordecai dazedly stumbled out of the old airframe, which creaked in reply. They were back at the workshop, which lay silently across the field. He was back where he had started, in fact the airplane was sitting in one of the large indentations in the fieldgrass where Wanderer's hullbottom had rested no more than an hour ago. The newly constructed building sat, windows dark, doors shut, preculiar struts, angles and armatures sticking out at rakish angles, looking for all the world like it had been there for years. There was the faint noise of wheels slithering over wet grass. Mordecai looked over and was astounded to see Alex holding up the tail of the airplane, quite un-assisted by any means, and rolling the thing toward the workshop with some effort.

"Need any help there?" Mordecai asked.

"Not at all, she's light as a feather, nothing but spruce wood and pianostring, how else would she be able to fly so well?" Alex replied. "Hey by and by, you look awful tired man, why don't you head in and get some sleep. I'm starting my trial period with you guys today, so I guess the workshop will remain dormant for a little while longer."

Mordecai nodded, breathed in the crisp morning air deeply, and began the long trudge for home.


	3. Tears and Botched Attempts

Sunlight streamed in through the windows. The clock read eleven-twenty AM.

Mordecai came awake slowly. The walk home was a vague memory, he just remembered trudging through the dark, and then waking up here. Was it all a dream? If not, it felt as if it at least had occurred in a far away time or place, not a mere six hours ago. He had witnessed something magical, one of those things that the sleeping often miss.

"Big ships move in the morning dusk." He thought poetically to himself. In ten minutes his shift would start, he briskly got up out of bed.

Rigby was downstairs, deep rings around his eyes.

"Auugghhh, dude I feel terrible." Rigby complained, dark circles around his eyes, and darker than the circles that were usually there.

"Yeah, you look terrible, what happened?"

"Couldn't sleep a wink, had an awful dream, you got up and left the room, you were playing a concertina somewhere, and then I saw the Zeppelin with all these lights on it out the window." He replied, hoarsely. "Uuuggnnnggh."

Mordecai stifled a laugh.

The outside air was refreshing. A welcome cold-front had moved in, and the wind whipped about in ghusts, all in all a fine, blustery, cool day.

Benson stood in front of Rigby and Mordecai, listing the daily tasks, when up sprinted Alex.

"Terribly sorry I'm late, sorry!" He spluttered, dusting his legs off, it looked like he had taken a few falls on the trip over.

"Yes, you are late." Benson stated, angrily. "Rigby and Mordecai will fill you in on what needs to be done, IF they can remember." He scowled, and, for lack of a better verb, _stilted_ off on his two stickish legs.

"Right guys, I'm ready to work, what's doing today?" Alex asked, rubbing his hands together.

"Really menial stuff, I donno if you'll be used to it!" Mordecai said. "We've got to repair the fountain, and when and if we get that done, we've got to extend the stone wall and then mow the grass in the west fields.

"Sounds easy enough!" Alex replied.

The center pillar of the fountain had fallen completely over, and the side floodwalls were broken through completely. Even though it was resting back in it's customary spot, away from the great Airship's landing site, it was still, quite inexplicably, utterly destroyed.

"My god, did I do that?" Alex laughed and laughed.

Rigby and Mordecai scowled. "There's no way we can do anything to this, we need new materials to rebuild it, and for god sakes, we cant lift that pillar back up!"

"Let's get to that wall then." Rigby said, dejectedly. "Benson will be furious."

Alex stared pensively at the fountain, letting the wheels in his mind work, until Mordecai and Rigby called after him, frustratedly, to get moving. He did so.

* * *

><p>They came to an old stone wall, spanning half of the gigantic field it ran through. It was old, ancient actually, left over from when some obscure farm or agricultural operation had been there a hundred years before. Benson was given two choices, as Mordecai explained it, either tear it down completely, or finish building it, for it did look nice and was considered by management to be an aesthetic asset to the parkland. Benson had chosen the latter, just to make more work to do and keep the labor and paychecks flowing. Benson hated stagnation, work for the sake of work was what he wanted.<p>

The pile of stones had been delivered by a city truck, and sat an incredibly inconvenient distance across the field. Each of them were expected to lift each stone, one by one, two or three men on a stone if its weight required, and move it painstakingly over to the wall, and then to pile them in an orderly fashion into something that looked like the already existing wall.

The first few rocks did not seem too bad, but when they realized that, after the first three seventy-pound stones, one of which almost costing Rigby his feet, how little headway they had made on the wall, the job suddenly became very tedious. The stones were all manner of shape, some were large and round and impossible to hold onto, and some were flat and disc-like, with sharp edges that cut into the hands of their carriers. Alex tried to keep his two friends and co-workers jovial, he sang an old sea-tune meant to hoist lifeboats to, and made jolly little remarks.

"C'mon me lads, we're nearly there!"

This did hot help much, especially in the case of the short-tempered, shorter attention-spanned raccoon.

The three worked diligently for over two hours, shugging stones into position. After crushing a few fingers dropping them into place on the wall, it was decided to leave them in small piles and arrange them after their strength came back.

"This is hhaarrrddd!" Rigby whined, lying on his back.

"Ahh yes, but work does a body and mind good, and besides, be glad it's a beautiful cool day!" Alex said, smiling, climbing atop the old wall, spreading his arms like wings and inhaling. "Nothing half so much as wonderful as a good wind."

Mordecai smiled too, he liked Alex's sentiment.

"Lets see if we can mow that lawn, more of this rock-shoving tomorrow." He said.

"Indeed, let's get to it!" Alex replied.

"Unngghh!" Rigby gurgled.

* * *

><p>The lawnmower started on the fifth try. Rigby climbed atop the hood, Alex into the driver's seat, and Mordecai on the makeshift tailboard.<p>

"Off we go!" Alex shouted, advancing the throttle and engaging the blade and drive clutches. The mower jumped forwards and began it's slow, bumpy journey along the field edge. By their best reckoning, it would take them until dark to finish the field, but they intended to at least finish one job they were given today. The old machine ran steadily on. It was an old square-hooded, red and white _"Pacer 700"_ model from the 1970's. It had it's good and it's bad days, as Mordecai told Alex, and as all of them would soon find out.

They made one pass on the half-mile long field, along the hedgerow at it's edge, and turned around for a second pass. They had just struck up a lively conversation involving the game of connect-four over the clattering of the mower's engine, when they were interrupted by an odd noise.

The clattering became very loud, very loud, and all of a sudden there was a tremendous cracking noise. The mower lurched to an immediate stop, there was the sound of several metal objects flying around inside something else made of metal very quickly, another loud bang, a flame from the exhaust pipe, and then silence. Rigby was thrown clean off the mower by the sudden stop. Alex only took a moment before he was completely sure of what happened.

"The old bastard threw a connectingrod!" He shouted angrily. "Hasn't anyone looked after this thing?"

"How you know it threw a connectingrod?" Rigby asked.

"I know engines." Alex said, throwing open the hood, reaching far down into the hot confines of the compartment to the oilpan, and withdrawing the thing that had punched through it.

"Does this answer your question?"

Alex held up a connectingrod minus it's wristpin and rodbearing. "Ow!" he exclaimed, dropping the hot piece of metal and nursing the minor burn on his hand.

"It's no good, she wont go nowhere now, gonna need a new connectingrod and piston, a new oilpan, probably a new cam assembly since the timing's most likely screwed up, prolly need a whole new engine!"

"Ohhh Benson is gonna blow his lid when he hears about this!"

"Look, we got two options." Alex said.

"Yeah, and what are those?" Mordecai asked, looking in a disdained manner at the old lawnmower.

"Well guys, ive been thinking as we've worked each and every job, and I think I know of a good old fashioned, utilitarian way to help out most, if not all of our troubles. We can either tell Benson that everything broke and nothing worked, and get him pissed, or we can tell him work is just going slow because it is going slow, and that we shall have the work finished by tomorrow, in which time I can implement my idea." Alex related.

"And what is this _idea_ of yours?" Rigby asked, skeptically. "Usually when Mordecai and me, or rather _anyone_ around here has an idea to speed up work, it ends up in a horrible disaster!"

"With fire!" Mordecai added, gesturing upwards with his wings.

"Well it does involve fire, but as a useful propulsive force!" Alex laughed. "You'll see tomorrow, what do you say?"

Reluctantly, the other two nodded.

* * *

><p>The trio avoided Benson for the rest of the day. They "borrowed" the golfcart and were soon in the middle of town, sitting on an old cast iron sidewalk bench across from the library.<p>

"So what I don't get, Alex, is why the pineapples always explode!" Rigby continued, interested.

"Well, that theres the odd part, I can never figure out why, but I did figure out how exactly whoever was doing it managed to..."

Alex was cut off by quite an odd entrance. A fiendishly ugly girl in a bright pink and yellow shirt and skirt came running up, mole-tail flailing about in the wind, and eyes filtered through round-rimmed spectacles.

"Ohh Rigby...there you are." she smiled up at them, licking her lips and making any manner of odd noises.

"Go away." Rigby said, narrowing his eyes.

Mordecai stifled laughter.

Alex was too repulsed and appalled to say anything.

"I actually didn't just come to see you my love." She said _at_ Rigby. "Mordecai." She licked her lips again, and fiddled with her retainer. "Margaret is very upset, she just had another breakup, just thought you'd like to know, you know, now's your chance, and I said I'd help you out and all sees as I know how you feel."

"Whoa, what!" Mordecai started.

"Yeah, she's taking it real rough this time too, I don't know if it was the guy, or just the number of times it's happened finally coming down on her." Eileen said.

"Whoa, see im not exactly able to talk to her." Mordecai replied. "Hey, thanks for that Eileen, it means a lot, you telling me, you're a great little friend."

Eileen hugged him, which he didn't resist, and which made Alex back up along the bench and scribble X's on it with his pen.

"I know I shouldn't, but I feel fantastic!" Mordecai said as Eileen left. "The ballpark is open for play again!"

"What do you care!" Rigby yelled. "You cant even talk to her at all, wether the _Ballparks _are open or closed!

"Hey Mordecai, I'd go for it, now's your chance, go tell her how much you care for her, at the very least let her know you're there for her!" Alex said.

"Yeah...yeah maybe I will!" Mordecai replied in a resolved tone. He got up and marched off on the direction of the coffeeshop.

"He'd better do it this time." Alex muttered, concernedly.

* * *

><p>Mordecai wandered cautiously into the coffeeshop. He immediately caught sight of Margaret's fiery red headfeathers and wings. She had her back turned to him, and she was bent over, cleaning a plate.<p>

There was noone else in the shop, it was cool and silent.

"Hey Margaret, everything cool here?" He asked, stealing up behind her.

She whirled in shock, almost dropping the plate.

The expression she had on tore him completely in two. He had never seen her this melancholy before, he didn't think her face could harbor such sadness, and furthermore she was usually so bouncy and flirtatious-looking.

"Hi Mordecai." She said, unevenly, trying quite outwardly to hold something back. "Yeah, everything's cool here."

Mordecai looked at her for a long time, even after she turned back to resume her work.

"Let me know if you need anything!" He called, walking towards the door.

"Kay!" He heard in a meek reply.

As the door drew shut, he heard a noise begin through the poorly soundproofed glass windows, as soon as the latch clicked.

In all his life, he had only heard Margaret cry once, and that was a distant and painful memory. The plaintive sound of her sobs had not changed in all those years.

Mordecai listened for a moment to the strangely beautiful sound, felt his stomach churn, and sprinted away as fast as his long legs could take him.

This sound haunted Mordecai all the way back to the old house. It seemed to echo around him in the dripping water on the tiled floor of the shower, and it haunted him as he lay down to sleep, even as Rigby blathered at him about how completely and utterly awesome the paintball shop was.

It troubled him in his dreams.


	4. Engines of Enterprise

The next day started like any other day. The alarmclock rang at seven with it's horrid, skull-vibrating buzz. Mordecai and Rigby had set their alarms an hour early as to ensure they met up with Alex in a timely fashion for his "big idea", and hopefully before Benson caught on that anything was amiss. It was to be another beautiful day, as the radio weather report stated, to start off nice and crisp, so Rigby and Mordecai both donned their coats.

They were to meet Alex by the old fountain. On the way, Mordecai and Rigby noticed a strange and wonderful thing. The trees were beginning to show signs of autumn. The sugarmaple was showing miniscule amounts of golden and scarlet. Birdsong filled the trees a Woodthrush was boldly declaring his presence on a high branch.

"Smaller cousin of yours?" Rigby laughed.

Mordecai raised an eyebrow, never having thought about it before. He quickly decided it would be best _not_ to think about it, and they continued on.

It was just beginning to warm up as they arrived at the sorry old wreck of the fountain.

"Well, here we are, now where's Alex?" Rigby asked, impatiently, rubbing his sleeves.

"I just cant wait to see what this big, "fix-everything-idea" of his is." Mordecai chuckled to himself. "Knowing him, it's probably a..."

Mordecai was cut off by a loud noise.

The deep, throaty hoot of steam through a brass chamber.

The two looked up and over the hill.

What they saw approaching them was quite preculiar. At first, they saw what looked like the top of an old derrick boom, stubby and heavily built of metal plate, all riveted together with trusses inbetween, a chain, block and tackle, and hook hanging from it, swaying as it moved. Next came a tall, grimy smokestack, crowned with an odd, half-destroyed screen assembly and spewing black smoke and sparks into the air. After this came something that looked like several metal balls spinning around a shaft. Below this, belt drives slapped, gears whirred, exposed connectingrods and exposed cranks whirled around at great speed between two immense flywheels. A boiler soon appeared, lifting all this over the hill, and it was soon revealed that the whole assembly rested upon gigantic iron wheels.

"Holy mother puss-bucket!" Rigby quoted Ghostbusters in his utter astonishment.

The machine could not be compared to anything, it was merely a personification of utter motive power, and sporting a tremendous crane affixed to it's front end. It looked like an old steamroller, but much, much larger. The top of the stack towered thirty feet above their heads, and the top of the erect craneboom went higher than that.

The monstrous creation drew to a slithering halt in front of them, it's broadside facing them. The entire machine was covered in old black paint and thoroughly slathered on top of this with a coating of grime, grease, road-dust, dripping oil, tallow and patches of hard water discoloration. A bronze-etched sideplate read in large letters: "OSWALD".

Mordecai and Rigby just stared.

Alex dismounted the small driver's platform high up on the backhead of the boiler, scaled down the side of the engine, and greeted his compatriots with a soot-covered face.

"My fine fellows, let me introduce you to my multi-purpose, completely utilitarian, useful-anywhere, ever-reliable, forty-five ton traction engine, Oswald." He said, proudly.

"Traction engine?" They both asked.

"Yeah, haven't you ever seen one before?" Alex asked. "They're just big steam locomotives that don't need to run on tracks, they can run anywhere where the ground is flat and traversable. They were used all the time on farms and sawmills before _tractors_ were invented." He said that with a note of contempt. "This big girl is the end to all our labor problems, and nothing whatever forgotten! She's got a three cylinder simplex arrangement that makes four-hundred horsepower, which is magnified ten fold in her lowest gear setting. She is fully governed for easy running, she has a hundred square foot even firegrate area with two thermic syphons, and her operating pressure is two-hundred and fifty pounds per square inch. Her main drive wheels are fifteen feet in diameter, and in her highest gear she can go fifty miles per hour, and damn smooth with her road-tires on. Speaking of gears, she's got four of them, and she's fully clutchable too, so if you got anything you need to give a good spin with a belt, just disengage her drivegear and loop a belt over one of her flywheels and you are all set! She's got three duplex waterpumps which can be used to feed her own boiler with, or give water pressure to something like say, a fire standpipe or a water delivery line. She's got a simplex air compressor and reservoir, she's also got a front-end derrick, as you can see, with a nine-ton lifting capacity and it's own fifty-horsepower lifting engine. No traction engine was ever built nearly this big, so a while back me and the boys decided to cobble this old thing together, and theres more where she came from too!"

"Well Why...Why Oswald!" Rigby asked, exasperatedly.

"Because it's a good name!" Alex frowned, defensively. "Let's get this fountain sorted out!"

Mordecai and Rigby wrapped the steel "chokers" as Alex called them, around the pillar of the fountain, and then attatched them to the big forged-iron crane hook lying on the ground. They gave a tentative thumbs-up to Alex, who, back on Oswald's driving platform, blew the deep whistle a few times, and pulled a combination of levers.

A loud chuffing issued from a heavy casing behind the craneboom, steam and thick black smoke shot up the stack. The hook lifted off the ground, the chokers strained, and then as easy as could be, the cement pillar rose off the ground. It rose until the hook reached the boom of the crane. Here, Alex stopped the winch, and disengaged something, and then restarted the motion of the lifting engine. This time, the entire boom of the crane swung upward, lifting the pillar as it went. Alex also began to slew the engine slowly forward, standing the pillar completely upright, back in it's place, and stopping when this had been achieved.

Mordecai and Rigby cheered, and Alex gave a victory-whistle. All three then set about securing the base so it would remain upright until the contractors came to relay the broken cement.

"That was amazing!" Rigby said.

"Meet me at the stone wall!" Said Alex. I've got to go get some equipment so Oswald may further aid us in our pursuits!"

"Haha, no problem here!" Mordecai called. "Benson is gonna flip when he sees we got that pillar upright!"

Alex busily shoveled coal into the ravenous firedoor, then climbed up to the driving platform, yanked open the throttle, and started off across the field. The big flywheels whirled around and the engine slowly rounded the crest of the hill like a lumbering giant, just awoken from a long slumber and shaking off the stiffness of sleep.

"C'mon, lets get to that wall, I cant wait to see what he's got in mind now!"

* * *

><p>Mordecai and Rigby arrived at the pile of new stones, the stone wall in view far across the field.<p>

"I doubt that engine can pick up rocks by itself." Rigby stated.

There was the familiar whistle, and Oswald came wading up through the tall grass, hissing steam and dripping oily water.

From it's crane hook hung a large steel clamshell-bucket with a opening mechanism, and the engine itself was towing a large wagon, a big hopper with steel wheels.

"I don't believe that." Rigby stated. Mordecai laughed and laughed.

"We are soooo getting payed extra!"

"Hello you fellows!" Alex said, giving a cheerful toot as the engine drew to a stop. "Lets move some rock!"

Alex uncoupled the engine from the hopper and oriented the latter so that it was right next to the rock pile. He backed the engine around and oriented it's front end so that the crane boom and hanging bucket was facing the rock pile as well.

"Rigby, see that chain hanging from the bucket?" Alex asked.

"Yeah!"

"Pull it!"

Rigby did so, and the bucket split neatly in half, hinging apart at it's top like a great clamshell, deriving from it's name.

Alex pulled a lever and the bucket dropped, hitting the stone pile with a tremendous clang. It buried it's jaws in the stones. Alex manipulated the controls so the crane lifted again, and as it did so, the bucket jaws drew shut, hundreds of pounds of stone safely locked inside. Alex cranked the steering over, and slewed the engine sideways as best he could, until the crane and its bucket were hanging over the hopper wagon.

"Pull it again Rig!" Alex called.

Rigby did so, and hundreds of pounds of rock slammed down into the hopper.

This process was repeated over and over again until the majority of the stone pile had been transferred neatly into the hopper wagon. Alex again slewed the engine around and backed up, Mordecai attaching the hopper's towing-coupling to Oswald's drawbar.

"Hop up folks!" Alex invited.

Rigby and Mordecai climbed up onto the engine eagerly. They climbed up the ragamuffin old ladder which ran up the side, even though Alex said it was far easier to use the spokes of the gigantic driving wheel to climb up. The driving platform was really only meant for two, and it was crowded. Mordecai and Rigby found themselves faced with the most daunting and mind-boggling array of levers, valves and control wheels they had ever seen.

"See, this here is the throttle." Alex said, pointing to a big red lever resting directly in the center of the apparatus. "That's like the accelerator on a car. This here is the reverser, this controls your valve timing and cutoff, and the direction which your engine runs in." He pointed to another, larger lever off to the side on a quadrant, which he threw forwards.

"Give the throttle a pull, Mordecai."

Mordecai clasped the formerly mentioned lever in his hand, drew the catch handle, and easily pulled. What happened next surprised him. Much of the mechanism in front of them began to spin, a great crankshaft and an exposed gearbox with a myriad of large, cast-iron gears with big elegant spokes began to revolve at a quick pace. The gears made deep grating noises, and the rest of the mechanism made sound the like of which Mordecai had never heard before. He felt the power of the beast through the lever he was holding, how if he pulled ever so slightly more, the iron giant would simply run away from him. Far ahead, the three cylinders and their pistonvalves hissed. The engine crawled forward slowly along the ground.

"This here is the steering wheel!" Alex said, pointing to the largest of a set of big wheels.

"Take a hold of that Rigby, now mind you it's not like a car, it doesn't center itself so if you want to straighten out, turn in the direction opposite that you just turned, and it takes a lot to make the chain capstan turn, thirty or so turns on that wheel your holding is only one turn on the steering-drum! I'm gonna go down below and stoke up the fire, good luck you two!"

Before they had a chance to protest, Alex shimmied down the ladder to a platform below theirs, where he began working waterfeed valves and shoveling coal through a door into a white-hot fire.

"Just go easy on that throttle Mordecai, you'll be fine, and for got sakes don't try and change the gears while she's running unless you fancy really big, gear-teeth shaped piercings through your neck, she'll have an absolute heart attack!" Alex called up, doing his best to be re-assuring.

Mordecai's eyes widened and he assumed a death grip on the throttle.

"Don't worry, I don't know how to change the gears, I don't think I wanna know!" He replied, shakily.

Rigby toyed with the steering wheel, seeing how the metal monster responded to his control.

From far off, it was quite a spectacle to behold, the gigantic traction engine sluggishly making its way across the field, a jay, a raccoon, and a mis-shapen boy at it's many controls, and thousands of pounds of rock in tow.

"Don't worry about the weird noises you're gonna hear, that's just me feeding water into the boiler!" Alex shouted up.

When they arrived at the wall, Alex instructed Rigby to steer parallel to it and then for Mordecai to stop the engine at its end. When this had been accomplished after some "navigational errors" made by the uncoordinated Rigby, Alex pulled the coupling pin on the old hopper and then climbed up to the driving platform. He took the controls and deftly swung the engine completely around, and dropped the hook crane hook and the big clamshell door bucket on the ground.

"Guys, hanging on a rack on the back of the hopper, you're gonna find a really bigass pair of lifting tongs, like ice tongs only ten times bigger, and they are gonna have a closing mechanism on them that looks like the one on the bucket there, can you run around and get them?" Alex asked.

They nodded and dismounted the seething hot trackless locomotive.

Running around the back of the hopper, they found what they were looking for, hanging among a great assortment of things, several beartraps, what looked like an ocean-mine, axes and picks, a long pole with a hook on its end, a rake, a fire poker and a glaring red marker lantern.

They dragged the heavy pair of tongs back to the engine.

"Okay!" Alex continued. "Now, get that clamshell bucket off of the hook and put those tongs on it!"

It was short work to change the apparatus on the hook. No sooner had Rigby slid the gigantic hook through the wrought iron loop on the tong hinge mechanism, then Alex put steam to the winching engine and up it went.

"Guide them in left a bit, we'll pick up stones from the hopper this way!" Alex called, slewing the engine sideways. Rigby and Mordecai steered the tongs with a pair of guiding chains attatched to them.

"That chain that Mordecai's got, if pulled, will open them up!"

"Gotcha!" Mordecai replied, pulling his chain hard. The tongs flew open, and they climbed atop the hopper and attatched them as best they could around a stone.

"Think that'll hold without falling?" Alex asked. "It takes some practice!"

Rigby gave a thumbs up, and Alex lifted the hook and tongs, stone and all, high into the air. This particular stone was much larger than any of them hoped to lift un-assisted, and they all prayed it would not fall. As it turned out, it did not, and work continued. Rigby and Mordecai guided the stones in effortlessly with their chains, and put them snugly in place, making new wall without ever touching the rock.

This process repeated over and over, and sped up each time as all three became more practiced in the movements and fell into a groove. All three worked diligently with their minds and hands, the great machine acting the medium of movement, through which flowed their efforts like an unrestricted stream. When the wall progressed beyond the range of practical crane-swing, Mordecai would attach the crane hook above the tongs to the hopper's coupling, and Alex would back the engine and hopper until they reached the new end, where work continued.

Hours passed, this time the wall extending in jumps and reaches, yards per hour, instead of inches.

Without even realizing it, the trio reached the edge of the field. Rigby and Mordecai sat down on the grass and stared at their work. They had layed four-hundred feet of stone wall, decent stone wall at that, in four hours, and with the rapidity of the fountain job, when they asked Alex for the time, his pocketwatch stated it was exactly noon. The sun was at it's zenith, but obscured behind towering white cloudbanks.

"Ill be right back fellows, gotta go get something else, go to the field that needs mowing and rest there until I show up." Alex said.

Rigby and Mordecai wearily got up and began their trudge to their final job.

"This one will be completely effortless on your part!" he shouted as Oswald began to move.

* * *

><p>Rigby and Mordecai sat in the swaying grass of the field.<p>

"She was crying?" Rigby asked.

"Yeah dude, shes really upset, something's wrong." Mordecai replied.

"But the guy she broke up with was a total jerk, I bet he dumped her!"

"I dunno man."

"You saw how he treated her, you and I both wanted to kill him, and I usually don't even care!"

"I haven't heard her cry in..."

"Dude you should ask her out."

"Are you kidding? Horrible timing, that's what she doesn't need right now, more people pestering her!"

"Not pestering, helping her, shes probably just lonely, it'd completely fix the problem!"

Mordecai shook his head.

The whistle of the traction engine filled the air, and was soon accompanied by a column of black smoke approaching.

The two of them got up to see the engine, towing a strange apparatus where it had previously pulled the hopper. It was a great platform on small, stubby little wheels with odd hexagonal cross-section rotating columns, oriented across the back. These columns spun around rapidly, and tossed up grass clippings as they went.

"Oh my god, it can't be." Mordecai said in disbelief as the engine came up.

"Hello you fellows, that thing you see back there is nothing but the biggest push-mower in the country, or pull-mower...rather." Alex said, happily. "The blades are turned over by the wheels, so it only works when its moving, it cuts a path eighteen feet wide, so it shouldn't take half as many passes as with that infernal combustion machine we had yesterday! Hop on!"

Mordecai and Rigby laughed and hopped onto the lower runningboard of the engine.

"Listen guys, can you fire a steam engine?" Alex asked, shimmying down the ladder. "It's hard work, but I think you'll get it, I've got to drive this time to make the work go faster, and we'll need lots of steam!"

"Well...okay..." Mordecai stammered, being interrupted by Alex.

"Great! I wont bother explaining most of the principals to you, because that's a lot of boring jazz you don't need to know to actually do it just one time."

He lead them halfway up the ladder to the firing platform. A small scuttle, which composed the large boxy back of the traction engine, provided the coal. In the backhead of the boiler, which seethed boiling hot in front of them, was a gigantic door which split in the middle. Alex opened it, the two halves lifted up and sideways to reveal a roaring fire.

"Stoke this up if you see black spots in the firebed, because that's when theres a hole in it and that lets cold air in, it eats the firebars and wreaks havoc with the fluepipes, cold air in there is very bad. Also keep these doors shut when your not doing anything to the fire, because having them open does the same thing. Now it may look pretty docile in there, but when I get her going, you're gonna get draft caused by my cylinder exhaust, which will make that fire white-hot, you're gonna have to keep up with it!" Alex explained. "If you have to clean the ash out of the bottom, rock this lever here, that turns the grates that the coal sits on and gets rid of the bad stuff. Now, the other thing you gotta watch when you're the fireman is the water level."

Mordecai and Rigby nodded.

"See this sightglass?" Alex pointed to a glass tube, which was partially filled with water and had valves and supply pipes at both ends. "This thing tells you how much water is in your boiler. If it goes too high, there wont be any room to make steam, and if it goes to _low_..." He said with an inflection, "If it goes too low, the engine goes kaboom. Long story short, the heat from the fire that would normally go into heating water over the crown would go into melting the metal, which would destroy the boiler, if there's pressure behind it, kablammo."

The raccoon and jay raised their eyebrows uneasily.

"But, that isn't going to happen, and ill tell you why." Alex stated, grinning. "These valves here are your waterpumps, the injectors are a bit finicky so we wont bother with them. If the waterlevel goes below here on the glass, you are gonna turn this valve on all the way. It will start going up, and if for any reason it shouldn't, you are gonna turn on this valve as well. If it doesn't start going up after that, call me ASAP. When the water is up around this point, you can shut those valves, just not all the way, keep them cracked so the pump cylinders stay warm. Got it?"

Rigby and Mordecai nodded dumbly.

"Excellent."

Alex clambored up to the drivers platform. There were several noises of preparation, and then he called down.

"You guys remember how slow she was going when you were driving?" He asked. "I bet you never opened that throttle more than an eighth of the way! Well, now you're gonna see full power, and this is on the lowest gear mind you!"

Alex took the throttle in his hand, pulled it back a bit, letting the cylinders warm up. The big crankshaft turned over and the engine began to roll. He then slowly drew the throttle all the way back.

The machine, which all this time had seemed to docile and temperate, suddenly roared to life like a dormant volcano. It coarsed through and through with power. Sparks and flame shot from the stack, the black column of smoke no longer wafted, it vomited out the top of the long chimney. The fire roared and made an uncanny noise, the crankshaft whirled around at blinding speed. The slow chugging they had heard became rapid and deafening. The big main wheels churned on the ground, the engine sat down and dug its rear end into the soft earth, peeling out, and then abruptly lurched forward.

They couldn't have been going more than fifteen miles per hour, but it felt like eighty. The engine jumped, swayed, rocked and shook with its own propulsive force.

"And did I mention, this thing has NO SUSPENSION!" Alex screamed down, delightedly.

Rigby held onto the grab iron for dear life, and when he looked at Mordecai, he found his pasty-white faced companion laughing quite hard.

"This is so ridiculous, it's insane, it's wonderful and insane and I love the crap out of it!" He jabbered.

Stoking the fire proved easy, as there were two of them, and each recognized the difficulty of the task for a single man, as well as watching the water level. The waterpumps behaved exactly as Alex described, they only ever needed to touch the first valve to keep the water at the level in the glass which had been declared best.

When Alex reached the end of the long pass, he did not slow down, he merely spun the steering hard over and swung the engine around as sight as it would turn, returning and just barley making the edge of the already cut grass. In no more than an hour, the entire half-mile by half-mile field was cut evenly. Alex parked the engine in the middle of the field and unpacked a sooty picnic basket out from inside the toolbox, the inside of which wasn't quite as sooty and contained delectable food, which all three ate ravenously, having had no breakfast.

"Dude, this is like a Mary Poppins book." Mordecai laughed.

"A what?" Rigby asked.

Alex whirled. "You uncultured SWINE you!" He shouted through his sandwich.

Mordecai burst out laughing and Rigby bit down angrily on his ham.

"So Mordo, you ask Margaret out yet?" Alex asked.

Mordecai related that he hadn't, why, and what he had seen.

"Ouch!" Alex replied, concernedly. "Look here mate, she's lonely, very lonely, you really need to talk to her!"

"What in the world, how did you finish so..., holy _crap!" _Benson blathered, sprinting up and seeing the engine.

"Aha, Benson, let me introduce you to Oswald here!" Alex stated, getting up and offering Benson and sandwich.

"The Engine, not the sandwich, mind you." He clarified.

As he listed off the many features and facets of his engine, as he had done before, benson's eyes grew wider and wider.

"And the fountain?" He asked.

"Lifted the pillar back up with the crane and secured it."

"The wall?"

"All finished."

Benson was exasperated.

"I'm not gonna lie, I had my doubts Alex, and although your methods are...unconventional...to say the least, I am very, very impressed!"

"Daww shucks, I don't..." Alex couldn't finish his reply.

"AND NOW IM NOT!" Benson shouted, pointing to the lines of destroyed earth left from the wheels of the forty-five ton monster.

Alex's expression turned to dismay.

Benson fumed, his head emitting as much smoke as the engine was. He didn't say a word, he simply stomped off back the way he had come, angrily flailing his stickish little arms at regular intervals.

"Wow dude, you sure did get on his good side, he'd have fired you if you were one of us!"

"You know...somehow I don't think so." Alex pondered. "I think he needs you guys more than you need him!"

Mordecai and Rigby laughed.

"Anyway, Mordecai, go talk to Margaret, you wont regret it." he continued.

* * *

><p>"This here's the workshop!" Alex said as the engine drew to a stop. They had crossed the entire park, from the far side to the opposite far side, where Wanderer once sat. Oswald had steamed diligently the whole way.<p>

"I think old Oswald here is getting a bit tired." He said. "Time we dampen her fire for the night, ill clear out the sediment ring too."

As Mordecai and Rigby dismounted, a tremendous blast of steam shot out to the side of the engine as Alex opened a valve. The afternoon sun hit the steam cloud and made a vibrant rainbow which hung in the air.

This was the first time Rigby or Mordecai were to see the inside of the mysterious steel-sided building. They threw open the large doors for Alex, who thanked them and eased the big engine forward and inside the dark space. As they entered, gaslight flames flared up in their glass chimneys.

"Welcome to my home away from home!" Alex said, bowing.

The room was lined, coated and utterly filled with all manner of complex, nondescript, colorful and strange machinery of days gone by. Shelves of miniature representations of steam locomotives and power generation plants, several automobiles over a hundred years of age, a half-disassembled steam launch boat, a smaller traction engine that was more gaily painted and cleanly kept than Oswald. It in particular caught Mordecai's eye, its boiler was cladded in shining black and brass bands with red pinstripes, and its wheels were bright red. It lacked a crane on its front end, and instead had a large shelf on its front with a genorator and a large headlamp. It too had a name, broadly declared on plates to be the "Pride of Ledyard". In addition, Several stationary engines sat around on blocks and wagons, and old oil lanterns burned everywhere, showering the room with a dim, comforting rainbow of light from their many colored lenses. Unfinished boilers and boiler pieces were strewn about in no particular order. Cranes, armatures and lifting gear prortruded from the walls, and an overhead gantry crane hung from rails on the ceiling. Lathes, Mills and a myriad of other metal-manipulating machinery lay along each wall, some with unfinished parts in their clutches, still in the process of being made.

"Yep, this is where it all happens." Alex said, wearily. "Pull up a chair. Maksim, you around?"

A thick-bearded, stocky Russian man withdrew himself from a dark corner.

"Mmmh." He said.

"Maksim, how are things, good day?"

"Da."

"Guys, this is Maksim Egorov, he's staying here with me to help with work. He usually talks more but he's had a tiring day today, been working on that Smithfield boiler over there all by himself."

"Da."

"Care for some food?"

"Nyet."

"Okay."

Rigby and Mordecai both sat down into old wooden chairs.

"How did you get into doing all this stuff?" Mordecai asked.

"Ahh like I told you before." Alex said. "I couldn't have a normal life, just because of the way I am, and also a little bit of circumstance, so it was either choose to experience the living hell of being a social outcast in isolation and starving, or doing what I love and only that. I chose the latter."

Alex began to relate his long story to the two. How horrid his school days were, how he escaped to the shipyards of his town whenever he could, how he made friends with the engineers there, and how they in turn helped him along. How he had compulsively studied steam engineering even since he learned how to read, and how he applied it to his everyday life. He told how his philosophies in living life worked. He told them of all the wonderful things and places and people he had experienced, and how much heritage and history he had helped to save. He told them of his awkward social tendencies, and his lost love. After an hours long telling, he in turn asked them theirs.

* * *

><p>"Haha, got you!" Rigby shouted as John's ankle spattered with paint. John, Rigby and Alex had launched themselves into a full-on paintball war with John's newest guns as the sun began to set. It was high time he took a break from his fun to have some more fun, as Alex had said.<p>

Rigby's joy was interrupted shortly as John came striding out from behind the bush, wielding the gatling gun.

"Ohh crap, DUCK!" Rigby screamed as John let loose a gigantic flurry of paint in his direction, roaring with ghusto as his six barrels spun around.

Rigby ducked down under the bush and fired his fully-automatic between the roots of the bush, hitting John in the feet and ankles. He didn't have time to laugh before Alex came out of his maple-leafed hiding place, dual wielding two ridiculous-looking paintball five-shot revolvers, and wearing a first world-war era spiked German helmet. He blared something incoherently over the field in a Scottish accent, and let loose a few shots, all of which hit Rigby. Alex laughed and laughed before he was promptly creamed by John.

John found this incredibly amusing, until he ran out of ammunition. A dismayed and petrified look crept over his face, trying not to let on.

"Aha, that's his out of ammo face, I've seen it before, GET HIM!" Alex cackled.

Rigby launched out of the bush and fired, Alex ran back to his hiding spot, put the revolvers down, picked up a sub-machinegun and ran back into the fight.

* * *

><p>Mordecai had not taken Alex's advice to go to the coffeeshop and find Margaret. It hurt him to think how upset she probably was right at that moment, but there he sat in the workshop, in the midst of the old machinery from across the world and throughout the past two centuries. He was deep in thought, and reading a book on practical steam engineering. He was finding it quite interesting, hard to understand, but interesting. When he had taken hold of Oswald's throttle lever, he could feel the sheer power of the engine running up his arm and into his heart. He wanted more, he wanted to understand the nature of the beast. He now understood and felt the slightest fragment of the terrible longing which had taken a firm grip on Alex's heart and soul so early in life, and transformed him into the avid, strong-spirited, knowledgeable engineer he saw now. He knew that he had absolutely no previous background in any engineering field, and that Alex was lightyears ahead of him in this department, and that there were no doubt others lightyears ahead of Alex, but it did not seem daunting to him, only interesting.<p>

Maksim hammered and hammered away on something far back in the shop, a dull noise in the back of Mordecai's mind. He looked over from time to time to see the big Russian raise up his arm and sledge hammer, then rapidly bring it down with issuing sparks. The inside of the workshop was like a dreamland, like that described and painted in some old, haunting children's book Mordecai had read far back in his childhood.

The sky outside was bright gold and amber, and Oswald's fire had died down to a dull, peaceful red, the engine was a sleeping giant once more. The hazy, light smoke from its high stack wafted up lazily through the rafters and out open vents. Maksim opened the firebox doors, layed out a steak on a sooty shovel, and held the steak inside the open firedoor, over the slow burning coal, letting it cook. When he determined the slice was done, he withdrew it and set it on the long, stout oaken table. He then went to cook another piece, and did so silently until the steak burst into flames in a large grease-fire. He uttered a plathera of quick Russian explatives and tried to douse the fire, eventually failing to do so and throwing the burning, rapidly shriveling piece of stake into the engine's fire. It screamed back at him with explatives from every language as it flopped and flailed about on the coalbed, dying painfully. Maksim laughed heartily as the petulant piece of meet shrieked at him, and closed the firedoors with a clang.

Mordecai just gaped, the Russian laughed even harder at his expression.


	5. Of Love, Laughter and Traction Engines

Yet another cycle of the sun and moon had passed. Alex was taking an early stroll through the streets of town as the sun came up in a glorious golden streak, a blue lantern in his hand, not serving any particular purpose, just for the sake of having it with him. He felt his eyes drawn to the coffeeshop, with its large glass windows. He moved over to one of these, next to the steps in the deep concrete well around the building and looked in.

Margaret was there, but not busying herself with work, as Mordecai told him was usual, especially just before the store opened. She was sitting alone at one of the tables, her head down.

"Stupid bastard didn't talk to her yet." Alex scowled.

The glass windows turned everything into a film with an unintelligible soundtrack. Up came the hagwoman of a store-manager, who berated Margaret for doing or not doing something which she should or should not have, waving her skinny and degenerate arm up and down like some grotesque, sideways metronome armature, her inflated lips mouthing words which sounded like sponge-on-glass noises through the window.

Alex shook his head and continued walking.

"That gitfaced, scumball manager, typical frustrated dead-end-job post-mennapausal PMS case, she'll get what's coming to her." He thought to himself, already devising a spring-driven mechanism to yank a rug out from under someone's feet at an incredible speed which he knew he would most likely never get around to constructing.

* * *

><p>Mordecai and Rigby had just gotten up, and were eating breakfast. Benson walked into the room with a clipboard.<p>

"What needs doing today Benson?" Rigby asked.

"Well, since you guys got all the major work done yesterday...somehow...all there is are some odd little jobs. Firstly, go retrieve that broken lawnmower which you conveniently didn't tell me about, then you can go around where the fences are and look for anything that's broken, and then you can see what you can do about fixing those damn wheel-tracks Alex's steam engine so nicely left in the ground for us. I appreciate him trying to mechanize the work effort around here, but if he's going to run a steam engine on park premises, he's going to have to clean up after it. I'm already looking the other way with the town fire regulations because I know this thing can do serious work."

Mordecai and Rigby nodded. The more they ensured that the traction engine could remain on the workforce, the easier it would be for the both of them.

"And where's Alex, by the way?" Benson asked.

"He said he'd meet up with us in a bit." Rigby replied.

"See that he does, or he misses a days pay." Benson stated, leaving the room.

The duo finished their bland, cardboard-like cereal and got up to leave.

* * *

><p>Outside, the air was cool and calm, a welcome change from the burning summer the world around them had seemed to leave behind on the day before.<p>

"Thank goodness for cold-fronts." Mordecai sighed, tilting his head up to the purplish sky. The two of them wandered to the freshly mown field, and found the old _Pacer 700_, looking quite pathetic shoved halfway into the ditch to make way for the steam engine on the previous day.

"C'mon, lets get this stupid old thing outta here." Mordecai said, pushing on the back. The two of them had it out in a few minutes, and rolled it all the way back to the garage, hopping on top of it and coasting in neutral whenever they went down a hill.

"What's happened here?" Skips, the muscular yeti, asked.

"Alex says it threw a connectingrod." Mordecai replied.

"What?" Skips asked. "That's the fourth time its done that since we got it! Weird."

"Hey, whats with that?" Rigby asked, pointing to Skips' long-island shirt.

"Benson's been makin' me wear a shirt lately." Skips said. "He says certain things have just been giving him the heebie-jeebies as of late, he's really stressed out."

* * *

><p>The Jay and Racoon had scoured the entire park and found nothing amiss, aside from an overturned trashcan which they quickly righted. They determined there was nothing they could do about the ground-damage from the heavy engine unless they had some sort of tiller, so they abandoned that effort completely.<p>

"It's just dirt and grass, it'll bounce back." Rigby said, looking at the deep, squarish wheel-channels, now partially filled with water.

"Hi guys!"

They both turned to see Alex trudging up through the field, surprisingly not pulling, driving or carrying any equipment.

"I heard work is light today."

"Sure is." Mordecai replied. "Just sorta finished all of it."

"Knowing Benson, he'll find more." Rigby said.

"So Mordo, did you talk to Margaret yet?" Alex asked, withholding what he had seen earlier.

"Nope."

"Why not?" Alex asked frustratedly.

"I just can't." Mordecai said. "I'm done trying, every time it fails."

Something inside Alex snapped. When he wanted something done, he either did it himself, or asked someone else for help, he did not sit idly by.

"I see." Alex said, flatly. "I guess I have no choice, but to intervene and talk to her for you." He hoped that in saying this, he would get Mordecai angry enough to talk to her himself. This plan backfired fantastically.

"NO YOU WONT!" Mordecai yelled, his eyes flying wide open. "No'one's gonna talk to ANYBODY!"

Alex now fully intended to make good on his promise.

"You'll thank me latteerrr!" He screeched back, sprinting away as fast as he could.

Mordecai shook all over.

"Rigby, if he tells her anything, he'll blow me completely outta the water, I'll have to leave town, I'll never be able to show my face anywhere around here again!"

Rigby just stared.

"I've got to stop him, or beat him to her, yes beat him there, and tell her that anything he says to her is the result of...of beer or that he got hit in the head with something a little too hard!" He then sprinted off, as fast as he could.

"You wont stop him!" Rigby shouted after Mordecai. "Better try and beat him there!"

As soon as Mordecai was out of earshot, Rigby fell on the ground and laughed. He found it hilarious, and high time something different happened.

* * *

><p>Mordecai's head filled with images of Alex telling Margaret his perception of how he felt in all manner of stupid, exaggerated ways. He had to stop him, he ran faster, toward the house, there had to be some sort of vehicle there. He grew short of breath, his legs felt numb underneath him. Suddenly, he came upon the thing he had been praying for. The golfcart sat outside the garage.<p>

"Sorry Benson gotta borrow this!" Mordecai shouted, catapulting himself into the drivers seat, turning on the power switch and peeling away, Benson shouting incoherently at him through the noise of the motor and tires.

"Hahaaa, now we'll see who gets there first." He muttered.

The golfcart rolled unevenly over the dirt road, much faster than anyone could run.

He drove through the hedgerows, towards town, and he saw a figure up ahead of him, walking leisurely. The figure turned it's head back and began running when it saw the cart approaching, undoubtedly Alex.

As Mordecai caught up to him, he saw he was looking somewhat tired.

"Whats the matter, don't got something to go fast with?" Mordecai asked.

Alex made a jump for the backseat of the cart, Mordecai swerved.

"Don't even think about it!" Mordecai yelled. "Youre not going to tell her anything, you'll ruin everything, you don't understand what this will do!"

Alex detected a note of earnest fear in his voice.

"Mordecai, sometimes things, to be really right, need a good kick in the right direction!" Alex replied, panting. "You don't know what good might come of this, you and her can't live a lie for the rest of your lives, I've seen people who have, it isn't pretty!"

Mordecai floored it, leaving Alex behind in a cloud of dust.

"Who is he to say how I have to live!" Mordecai thought, petulantly.

* * *

><p>He drove and drove, almost to the edge of the park, up came the old grade crossing over the railroad tracks. The cart skipped over the poorly layed boards and down the other side. Suddenly, he heard a far off crashing, a deep rumbling boom, like that of far off construction equipment.<p>

He thought nothing of it, until he heard a very familiar whistle blast behind him, turning from it's usual deep pitch to a screaming shriek of steam.

He looked back to see the traction engine roaring at him, at a speed which he had never guessed it could attain. Fire shot out of the tall smokestack, the rods, crankshaft and gears atop the boiler were a blur of motion, and Alex stood atop the drivers platform, throttle pulled all the way back. The safetyvalves blew steam high into the air, and mordecai noticed odd black strips wrapped around the wheels.

The little speedometer on the golfcart read thirty miles per hour, and Alex was easily doing fifteen faster. The engine made frightening noises as it careened over the ground, every time it hit the slightest bump its front end soared a foot into the air and came back to earth with a tremendous crash and metallic groan.

"Mordecai, remember first gear? Well This is FOURTH gear, this is full power in fourth gear and with road-tires on!" Alex shrieked down at him as he passed, an utterly fiendish grin on his face.

Maksim was on the firing platform, working valves and stoking the intense fire. He also turned.

"I am sorry Comrade, I am neutral party in zis affair, but someone has to keep fire going!" he shouted, apologetically, gesturing with his shovel.

The dirt road changed to pavement as they rolled up the gradual onramp to the main road into town. Mordecai had the golfcart absolutely floored, and was barely keeping up with the iron giant, until he noticed the battery gauge run from the yellow into the red.

"WHAT, NO!" He shouted angrily as the golfcart began to slow. It couldn't stop, it just couldn't, he willed it to move faster, but it would not.

"GOODBYYYEEE!" Alex yelled happily back to him as the steam engine sped away down the road, slightly wider than a lane, causing cars traveling in the opposite direction to swerve.

Alex laughed and laughed. "See that Maksim?" he called down. "That's why this electric car idea will never work, a vehicle needs to carry its own prime mover!" he patted the iron plates affectionately. He did feel bad for Mordecai, he would have done the exact same thing if he was in his situation, but he re-assured himself in thinking that if someone had done this to him, he might not have lost his own loved one.

Down main street he careened. He temporarily slowed the engine's frantic pace to make a turn, signalling with his hand at the bewildered drivers.

Up came the coffeeshop on the left, Alex jammed on the screw-brakes and dithered into three parking spaces at once. Interestingly, the old hag of a manager stood outside.

"Where's Margaret?" Alex asked, purposefully.

"I just fired the little bitch." She shouted back in her rake-on-a-chalkboard voice. "She was spewing her little angsty depression all over the store, so I told her to go take a permanent break! Said something about going to the park!"

She seemed quite proud of herself, her green hair seeming to increase in color with delight.

"That's all I wanted to know!" Alex said through a clenched grin. "Thank you!"

He opened the left-side blowdown valve, two-hundred pounds per square inch of scalding steam, water and sediment-buildup shot at the store manager, who's screams were drowned out by the tremendous fwoosh.

Alex laughed and laughed, throwing the engine into reverse, whistling several times and backing the monster, still spewing steam, fully around. The drop in pressure caused the engine to prime slightly, deep watery booms echoeing up the stack.

He shut the valve, ceasing the jet of steam which was now dousing the walls of buildings on the other side of the street, and anything in its path.

"Roll on, my beauty!" He bellowed as the engine leapt forward.

* * *

><p>Mordecai was stuck on the side of the road, just into town, the battery in the little white cart was completely flat. He couldn't take it out because it was burning hot, and he sat there, banging his head on the back hatch.<p>

More whistling. Mordecai looked up to see Oswald rumbling down the street, traveling the other way, Alex and Maksim working the monster as hard as they could.

"Whyyyhyhyyy!" Mordecai whined in utter despair, sitting down on the pavement.

"Yeah I know how you feel buddy." Someone said. Mordecai looked up to see only a parking meter, which to his amazement, kept talking.

"I said the same thing when YOU KILLED MY NEPHEW." At this it vibrated angrily, shrieking. "If I wasn't stuck on this pole, I'd tie you in a damn knot!"

* * *

><p>Margaret sat on an old park bench, her tears falling as wet as the streams of water in the nearby fountain. She now had no job, she was left with absolutely nothing. This was one of the worst days of her life. She thought seeing that beautiful ship in the skies in the early light of the morning was a good sign, a harbinger of something wonderful, but she was wrong. Signs of things to come were all in one's mind anyway. She missed her family, the way it was before her father died. She missed the wonderful world she grew up in before it all turned sour and complicated.<p>

A deep, throaty whistle filled the air. Margaret looked up.

Trundling noisily up the road was a fantastic creation of whirling iron pieces and great wheels, the likes of which she had never seen before. It spewed smoke and steam from every pipe and casing, loose-hanging chains rattled, and filthy, grease-stained water and oil dripped from it's many moving parts. She tilted her head at the odd nameplates which read "OSWALD" in bronze letters. Alex stood atop the thing, on a small platform, controlling it's movements. He moved a lever which stopped the chuffing noise, and he seemed to attempt to stop the machine, unsuccessfully, for it kept rolling.

With a sickening crunch, it buried it's front end and derrick in the concrete of the fountain. The center pillar fell clean over, breaking in half as it fell, and the newly repaired outer wall crumbled, spilling water everywhere in a torrent which then flowed away down the hill.

"Dag nabbit dammit daggit nabbit DAGGIT!" Alex exclaimed, hunching over with rage.

He threw a lever over and after some fiddling, backed the machine up until it sat parallel to Margaret's bench, where he stopped it. It simmered quietly in the sunlight, wafting little trails of steam, dripping water from an unseen pipe and thick smoke pouring from the stack, which turned lighter as the Russian man on the firing platform opened up the steam blower.

"Maksim, you have done well and I am exceedingly pleased with your effort. I've got it from here, your services are a fireman are no longer presently required."

"Dah." He replied. "You are much welcome any time you like, I go back to workshop now to finish new boiler."

They bowed to eachother, Maksim trudged off.

Alex moved and chained several controls, and then turned to Margaret, addressing her from atop the platform.

"Margaret?" he asked.

"Mhmm." She answered, doing her best to appear cheerful.

"Ahh good, then I didn't allzheimer-up your name there!" He said, chuckling, and shimmying down the ladder.

That brought back another painful memory to Margaret, one she really didn't need at that moment.

"Ive got to talk to you about something." Alex stated.

Margaret liked Alex, he seemed to be one of those rare people you could trust right off the bat.

"I need someone to talk to." Margaret said replied.

"Why you so down?"

"I'm alone, I'm always alone. Just had a bad breakup."

"Was he a good guy?"

"Heck no, he was awful, they are all awful, every single one. I seem to go through them like tissues."

"I get it, don't blame yourself, its just circumstance, I had the same problem going through a bunch of schools that didn't work for me, it's the same thing."

"Im lonely, I need someone though, it's been that way ever since dad died."

"Your father died?"

"Yeah, he died horribly, me and mom had to watch him be eaten alive by allzheimers disease."

Alex immediately realized his mistake.

"Ahh, sorry for the allzheimers crack there, that's just my twisted sense of humor coming out without regard for those around me." Alex scolded himself.

"No its okay, you couldn't have known anyway." Margaret replied.

"I loved my dad, we'd always go everywhere together. He'd take me on long trips when I was young, those were the only times I've ever left this stupid town. We'd go get icecream at this wonderful little store which isn't there anymore, they always had the best stuff."

"That sounds wonderful."

"He died when I was eight. He told me to always hold onto my heart, and he kept telling me that until he completely lost his mind. Lately it's been getting so hard to do that."

"How so?"

"Everyone around me seems so cold, I don't know if its just how people are around here, or if its like this everywhere."

"I agree, the world doesn't seem to have much a heart anymore. I honestly don't like most of the people in this town, if my home town was like that I'd have gone completely mad."

He was waiting for a time to ease Mordecai into the conversation, which happened seemingly on command to his wish.

"There was always Mordecai." She said. "He was always there for me, we knew eachother since we were four years old in kindergarten. He was always nice to me. When I changed schools after fifth grade, we lost touch with eachother, and then eleven years later, we found eachother again, both with jobs and too many things to do."

Alex nodded, smiling.

"He loves you, you know." He said, forth-rightly. "He's loved you forever, and he's just too shy to tell you.

Margaret's beak parted slightly. "Don't...don't be ridiculous..."

"That's what I came here to tell you, don't get me wrong I'm glad we talked, but that's what I originally came here to tell you. Margaret he loves you more than I think most people can love anything or anyone. All he does is talk about you."

Margaret's eyes welled up with tears, she turned away.

"I am sorry, I know its probably a lot to have happen in one day, but I often find that the truth fixes problems in the long run, even if it seems to make them worse in the immediate present."

Margaret turned back to him, drying her eyes.

"W-worse?" She stammered. "I've been waiting to hear that, I haven't dared ask to hear that, for years."

Alex grinned inwardly.

"I had a big crush on him, which developed over the years we were apart I think, when I saw him again, It didn't go away like I thought, it just got bigger. I've wanted to tell him, but I thought he wouldn't reciprocate! He never talks to me about anything more than the weather and what hes done for work over the day, he always seems to stay away from me!" Margaret continued, tears poorly hidden in her vocal tone.

"That's because he's afraid, afraid you wouldn't understand, so much so that he continues in silence." Alex replied. "I lost the one I loved because I couldn't speak, so I decided to step in and stop it from happening to someone else."

Margaret hugged him.

"Do you know where he is now?" She asked.

"Vaguely." Alex said, laughing. "Margaret tell me, have you ever run a steam traction engine before?"

* * *

><p>"Look bub, I'm just doin my job, don't give me any static, I feel just as <em>horrible<em> about this as you do." The policeman said, putting the bright orange slip of paper on the golfcart. Mordecai just stared.

"Illegal to park here more than two hours." The officer continued.

"Look, I tried to push it!" Mordecai said, attempting to again shove the cart up onto the curb.

"Looks like you burned out the motor, how fast were you driving this thing anyway?"

"Thirty or so, but it's gone that fast before!"

"Aha, here take this then." The officer said cordially, handing Mordecai a speeding ticket. "Twenty-five through here."

Mordecai stared at the second ticket in disbelief.

"Hey, look, I don't think I can find you ticketable for anything else, and you aint given me much backtalk like the rest of the hoodlums in this town, so why don't we try and recharge that battery of yours?" "I've got jumpers in the squadcar."

"Thanks." Mordecai scowled.

As the officer was getting the jumper cables out of the trunk, his radio buzzed to life.

"Sixteen-fifty-eight here, Whats'at?" The offer asked his two-way radio, picking it up.

"Yeah car 1658, mister Chang's gone on another rampage again, broke a customer's arm and then tried to strangle him with his own ponytail from what we gather, just got the call, can you head down and check it out?"

"The Chinese guy?" He asked. "Again? My god we've gotta evict that sucker, alright im on my way!"

The officer chucked the jumper cables towards Mordecai.

"Here buddy, take these!" He then hopped in his cruiser, let the big interceptor engine roar to life, put on the revolving lights and peeled out.

"Yeah, thanks." Mordecai replied to no one. "Well, that's that. Life as I know it is over, thanks to that idiot."

The ground began to shake, and Mordecai turned with dismay, anger and loathing to see the steam engine rolling towards him. It drew up behind him, taking up the previous three parking spaces with it's length, the crane boom hanging over him ominously.

He saw Alex motion to someone, instructing them how to get off.

He was surprised much, much more to see who dismounted the engine.

The red-crested robin came running up towards him.

"Mordecai, Mordecai!" she called to him, as she had done so often before.

Mordecai stepped toward her, and was taken quite aback when she reached back and slapped him, albeit gently.

"That's it, that's the end of it." Mordecai thought silently, his entire world crashing down.

"That's for not telling me earlier!" Margaret cried. Mordecai was again taken aback as she ran right into him, wrapping her wings around him and drawing them both into a tight hug.

"AhahaHAAA!" He looked up to hear Alex cackle. The steering axle on the steam engine jolted leftwards and the tremendous machine swung around, U-turning onto the oppsosite side of the road, going up onto the curb for a moment and destroying another parkingmeter, which shrieked momentarily. "We're the boys who make a noise when we come home from sea, we'll get right drunk, we'll roll on the floor, we'll have a Jubilee!" Alex sang as he and the engine careened off down the road.

Mordecai looked back down to Margaret, who had pressed herself up against him and nuzzled into his neck feathers.

He was right about one thing, life as he knew it was over. What he was wrong about, he realized, were things many and numerous.

"Margaret I wanted to...know if you'd like to go on a...date." He asked, the words spilling out in fits and starts. He felt like a great dam releasing the water it had held back for it's entire existence.

"Mmmmmm." Margaret replied, contentedly, her eyes shut.

* * *

><p>"My work here is done." Alex thought to himself in utter triumph as he watched his gigantic crankshaft spin around, the big flywheels made glassy discs where their spokes whirled, the scenery rolling by.<p>

* * *

><p>Margaret and Mordecai had walked all the way to the park. They had laughed and dodged eachother the whole way, playing like children. It felt so natural to the both of them.<p>

"Bet you cant catch me!" One would say.

"Bet I can!" the other would reply, chasing, catching up and embracing the first. A short freight train was rolling across the road, going slowly.

They found a bench and fell down upon it.

"So, where you wanna go and when?" Mordecai asked.

"Later, right now I just wanna go here and be right now." Margaret replied. "No more madness, just us."

After a long pause in eachother's arms, Margaret spoke up.

"Why didn't you say anything Mordecai?"

"I was scared. Why didn't you?"

"I was too."

"Remember so long ago, when we knew eachother as children?"

"Yeah, everything was so simple and beautiful."

"I feel like that again, I haven't felt like that since – I cant even remember."

"So do I, it's so simple. I regret – " her voice took on a sad note. "I regret this didn't happen earlier, maybe life wouldn't be so dumb if we had gotten together sooner. I'll never hear the end of it when I tell most of the people I know. I hate the fact they all think you're a loser!"

"Well, up until about twenty minutes ago, I was."

"My mother is gonna be so thrilled, she always said I should get together with you."

Mordecai was glad of this. He was tired of talking, he had had enough of words for one day. They held onto eachother for a long, long time.

* * *

><p>"Dude, I thought we were gonna play videogames, where you going?" Rigby whined.<p>

Mordecai combed his headfeathers. "I got me a hot date!"

"A date?"

"Yeah, a date!"

"With who?"

"Margaret!"

"You mean things didn't go absolutely horribly wrong like you – we, thought they would?"

"No, as a matter of fact things went horribly _right_!"

"I don't believe this."

Rigby flung himself down on the couch, boredly. "See you later, you lady-killer you." He said in a tone dripping with the best sarcasm he could muster."

Mordecai stepped out the front door into the night air, and abruptly stopped.

Margaret stood on the doorstep, five minutes early. It was not her arrival time which made Mordecai stop in his tracks and take on the same face which was plastered on him at the "Fist Pump" concert so many months ago. Margaret stood there in things that could barley be classified as clothing. She wore a small blue skirt and a flattering, under-sized shirt which might as well have been called a bathing suit top, and black tights. Seeing his face caused her to burst out laughing, threatening to escape from her shirt. He reveled in the sweet sound, now knowing it belonged to him.

"You look – just great." Mordecai said.

"I feel just great." She beamed back.

She leaned forward and kissed him.

Rigby sprinted off with a "Deeuaughaaaahahaaugh!"

Mordecai's eyes widened and his natural reaction, at first, was to splutter and then blather incoherently. He stifled this, luckily, and was then taken over by an intense relaxation, and he pushed back into the kiss. Margaret giggled through the kiss, and Mordecai wrapped his wings around her trembling body. She was soft, and deep. He also felt something else, a sort of spark which he could not explain, Margaret felt it too, something she had never experienced with the myriads of other boyfriends she had experienced, and kissed.

The two avians broke the kiss only when interrupted by an awful noise.

They turned to see a sleek, silvery car screech to a halt. It had red fenders and trim, wire-wheels, an open top, a big square windshield, and two large brass headlights that flickered with the flames of acetylene gas. It was easily over eighty years old, for Mordecai knew automobiles. What confounded him, is that aside from a deep and very quiet rumbling, there was no noise of an engine of any kind from under the hood.

"Did someone call for a chauffeur?" Alex asked from behind the wooden steering wheel, wearing a very stately uniform and chauffeur's hat, which were ruined by the fact he was wearing the ridiculous paper mustache he had cut out of the placemat that first day.

"No?" Mordecai responded with a questioning tone.

Margaret, again, laughed.

"How did you – know when to get here?" Mordecai asked. He hadn't told Alex of the date yet, let alone what time it was.

"You just seem like an eight-oclock fellow to me!" Alex replied, laughing. "I solemnly swear there is nothing more to it."

"I'd hope not, stalker!" Mordecai said.

The couple walked down to the automobile, and Mordecai held the door open.

"You gentleman you!" Margaret crooned, getting into the richly upholstered backseat.

"These seats are fantastic!" Mordecai stated, also getting in.

"Ja, ve build dem gudd in Amerika!" Alex snapped. "Where to?"

"The uhh, the movie theatre." Mordecai said. "Yes, the movie theatre, and make it snappy!"

They all laughed, and Alex adjusted several controls, which looked odd for an automobile of any kind. Mordecai noticed the accelerator was a second wheel on the same axis as the steering wheel. The car also made a deep, now familiar, chuffing noise as it sped up.

"What's this thing got for an engine?" Mordecai asked, already knowing the answer.

"Why, she's..."

"Steam Driven."

"Precisely!" Alex laughed. "How ever did you guess, the noise or the steam out the back end?"

"No, I figured it out when I saw you driving it." Mordecai replied.

Again, a laugh circulated throughout the car.

"This, fine sir, is a Doble model "A" steamcar, she'll do a hundred and seventy-one miles per hour, she's got a seventeen-hundred PSI water-tube boiler with twin sirocco blowers and gasoline atomizers which run only when fire is needed, and have pizo-electric ignition. This burner arrangement gets her a head of steam in ninety seconds on a cold day, and gives her over eighty miles per gallon on a good day!"

"EIGHTY?" Mordecai double-taked. "_Excuse me?"_

"Funny, I get that reaction out of everyone! Yes sir, there is tremendous power available in steam, and if used properly, it is far more efficient than any other kind of propulsion! Now as I was saying, we've got a four-cylinder double acting engine under there, which is direct-drive linked to the rear wheels, no need for a transmission because of the broad range of speeds these engines work at. Other than that, she's got a really nice golf club compartment, a run of the mill water injection system, and that's about it!" Alex rounded off, swerving around a corner at a rather hectic pace as he explained.

The lights of the town glared at them from down the road. The car picked up speed easily. The avians were surprised at how quietly and smoothly the old automobile rode.

"Sure beats Oswald, heh?" Mordecai asked, jokingly.

"Mate, nothing beats Oswald." Alex replied, not even looking back.

* * *

><p>They drew up to the old theatre in a matter of minutes, the car effortlessly slithering to a stop.<p>

"Thanks Alex!" Mordecai said.

"Oi, anything for a friend!"

"Thaaanks." Margaret added, charmingly.

"Of course milady." Alex replied. "You guys need my services later?"

"Something tells me we'll be walking home." Mordecai replied.

"Right, have a great night of it then!" Alex bid them farewell, utterly surprising them by increasing his throttle all the way and doing a burnout on his old wire wheels, the engine barely making any noise at all. The steamcar fishtailed out into the street and then shot away into the night, oil-lamp taillights flashing red at them all the way.

The Neon lights of the big triangular overhang lit up the sidewalk different colors.

"Two to see the _O'brien family's piper cub_ Please!" Mordecai asked the clerk.

"Heerre." Said the old woman behind the glass, her lazy eye flailing about in it's socket. She pushed two tickets out with her raggedy, deformed hand, and grabbed Mordecai's ten dollar bill. "Cinema twelve, damn you!"

"Th...thanks!" Mordecai replied. The couple walked in the cinema door. They grabbed seats at the very back, as they found out they mutually preferred being far away from the screen. After a roll of previews for low budgeted, non-original movies, the screen opened up with the feature presentation, about a lowly american family with only a second rate airplane to their name, and how they used it in all their get-rich-quick schemes, crashed it, repaired it and crashed it again. After what was the third repair of the old airplane, the O'Brien's decided to celebrate with a feast, which looked mouth-watering even through a projector.

"Ohhh that makes me hungry." Margaret said. "I didn't have any dinner."

"No dinner?" Mordecai asked.

"Yeah, too nervous." She laughed.

"But it does look good, I _want_ the pound cake that guy has."

"I looovvee poundcake."

"Ahaha, I love it too."

"What's you're favorite thing?"

"You."

Margaret tried to stifle her laughter, as the film was at an annoyingly quiet part.

"No I mean, what tastes good to you?" She asked.

Mordecai thought for a minute.

"You do."

She burst out laughing, unable to control it the second time. Several people turned around, and she buried her face in his chest to try and quiet herself. Mordecai relished her trembling laughter, and ran his hands through the feathers on her head.

"Well, I like a good pizza, french-fries if they are done a certain way, I like salmon fish and vegetables slathered with lemon juice." He replied. "I also really like oyster crackers."

"The kind in the soup?" Margaret asked, looking up.

"Yeah I'll go steal bags and bags of them because theres never enough, put them in a giant bowl and eat 'em."

Margaret found this incredibly funny.

"I like strawberries, but what you said sounds really good too."

"Hey, can you guys keep it down?" Someone with a pompadour asked. "This is a good part!"

This was abruptly followed by the piper cub on the screen flying down through a barn, which exploded for no good reason at all, chasing a pickup truck. The angry grandfather O'brien exchanged rather angered looks with the driver of the pickup, who seemed to be the main antagonist of the bits of film they had seen. The old man then picked up a lemon from the empty passenger side seat of the plane, and flung it at the truck, which promptly swerved, came to a complete stop, and then also exploded, with elderly mister O'brien clenching his fist in victory, with a dramatic wide-angle bank-away shot of the airplane.

They both laughed at this, and began whispering to eachother about what the other liked to do to pass the time, favorite songs, outlooks on life, living arrangements. They found that they had much in common, their love of kites, watching baseball games in the fall, and the fall in general. They both loved the absurd British comedy show "The Young Ones", and spent a good deal of time quoting it in the best british accents they could muster, each falling back giggling when the other did so. Such quotes like "Vyv, eat the telly!", "Oh no, the front door's exploded!" and "Well, I best conceal this sticky bun by placing it precariously on the edge of this box!" They both loved swimming, and they both had an intense hatred of heat and dry days. They both especially loved old cars, which they knew they would be seeing a lot more of with Alex around. They shared a love of photography, both admitting they did not get to do it as much as they wanted. They both especially _hated _doctors and medical treatment, and found they even shared common fears of needles and medical instrumentation, which also spurred from their common fear of pain. They both could take a fall or, in Mordecai's case, a punch, but that was different.

They talked so much, that before the film had ended, up came the woman from the booth.

"Alright you kids, Ive gotten three complaints about the jabbering jaybirds in the back row, out you go!"

She lifted the protesting avians up, literally, by the scruff of their necks, which hurt, walked them down the dingy hall, and threw them out onto the sidewalk.

"I don't want this either, it ripped when I tried to clean my teeth with it!" She shrieked, throwing back a slightly torn ten-dollar bill.

"That hurt!" Margaret said, her voice quivering, wiping away tears caused by the nerves in her neck stinging.

"Not for long it wont." Mordecai replied, reaching over and rubbing the back of her neck.

She moved her head and neck to the motion of his hand.

"Oooohhh, that feels good, that – feels – really good!" She cooed.

They sat like that for a long time, sitting on the rough sidewalk concrete, legs draped over the curb.

"Know what, I think the movie theatre was a pretty worn out kind of date anyway, everybody does it, I can do better. You up to walking somewhere? I got something to show you."

"Okay." Margaret smiled at him. They got up, got accustomed to being on their feet again, and began walking.

* * *

><p>Mordecai lead Margaret out of town and into the countryside, the tall, grassy fields of the undeveloped countryside far away from the park. They came upon the black waters of a flowing river, it's noise filling the air with sleep-enducing song.<p>

"This place is so beautiful!" She exclaimed.

"Ah, hold on just a sec!" Mordecai replied, brushing his hand through the reeds. The sky was suddenly filled with yellow, flashing sparks, which flew in every direction and did not go out.

"These little guys live here by the millions." Mordecai said. "I come here to think some times."

"What a beautiful place..." Margaret's voice trailed off, the fireflies swirling around her. "They seem to like you an awful lot." Mordecai laughed.

"Maybe it's the perfume I put on."

"Don't sell yourself short, it's you they like, not your perfume. Although, I will say it is nice perfume, whatever it is."

Margaret couldn't seem to stop laughing, made worse by the fact that the fireflies had settled on her arms and shirt, flashing incessantly and lighting her up like a Christmas tree.

"Theres a bench around here somewhere, I think that's it over there." Mordecai pointed to a rectangular shadow. "Yeah, yep, that's it."

They moved over to the old bench, partly sunken in the marshland water, the fireflies surrounding them in streams of light, and lighting up the air all around high and low like little flashing stars. They had begun to rise up from the far shore of the river. Margaret had never seen anything like it. They sat down on the old planking and held eachother there.

"Best date I've ever been on." Margaret whispered. "I want the rest of them to be like this too."

"Ill try my best."

"I knew something wonderful was going to happen, I knew it when I saw the airship pass overhead, it marked a change."

"Big ships are good Omens." Mordecai quoted a book that he could not remember the title of.

She kissed him again, this time he leaned in fully, their tounges playing a sweet game of "Catch me who can".


	6. It's Dirty Work

"PAINTBALL?" Benson screamed. "I thought we'd gone over this, NEVER AGAIN!"

The gumball machine shook with fury.

Mordecai and Rigby looked up from their breakfast.

"Hey Benson, don't look at me, it was all Rigby and Alex this time."

"Alex?" Benson spewed. "Great, just when I was starting to think of him as a good hard worker, where is the moron?"

"Yessir?" Alex replied, sticking his head through the window.

"You and Rigby are gonna scrub that hedgerow until each tree is CLEAN, EVERY TREE." Benson shrieked. "One more stunt like that and you're FIRED, you're ALL _FIRED!"_

"Got it, cap!" Alex replied without any questioning. He wanted to get on the gumball machine's good side, and stay there, he always tried to make friends with his supervisors, this one was going to be tough. "Each and every tree! Err, I say, you got a sponge?"

"Shed!" Benson retorted curtly, stomping out of the room.

The door slammed, and then re-opened.

"Oh yeah, and if I find one more puddle of grease-water, I am banning that steam engine of yours from the premises!" Benson shouted.

"Of course, splashers and collection plates shall be fitted!" Alex replied.

"They'd frikking better be!" Benson hissed, not gathering what had been said in the slightest, nor caring.

The door slammed shut again.

"My goodness what an irritable dispenser!" Alex laughed.

"I heard that you bastard!" Benson yelled through the closed door.

"We'd better get to cleaning." Rigby said, dejectedly.

"Not to worry Rig, we'll just power-wash it off with water, I'll get a fire hose and hook it up to the traction engine's auxiliary water pump."

"Haha, is there anything that thing can't do?" Mordecai asked.

"Yes." Alex stated flatly. "It can't fly...yyyeet."

Everyone laughed at this.

* * *

><p>"Pumps primed and ready!" Alex shouted, watching the pistonrods of one of the three steampumps on Oswald's boiler ticking up and down furiously.<p>

"We got pressure!" Rigby replied, holding up a gigantic bronze firehose nozzle, rather fearfully.

"FFFIIIRREE." Alex yelled in his best captain-Kirk impression, the big temporarily-mounted water pressure gauge's needle rounding its face behind him, and the pump slowing down, working harder.

Rigby pulled the handle, and was shot backwards by a jet of water more powerful than he had ever seen. He was bludgeoned to his knees by the pressure, and struggled to hold the nozzle in his small hands, the recoil pushing him back along the ground slowly.

The water hit the trees and bushes with such force, leaves all broke off of their branches and flew away wherever the bluish-white stream touched them. Branches fell down with clattering thuds, bushes were obliterated. These were non-kempt bushes of the hedgerow, so it didn't matter. In a matter of seconds, the major paintstains had gone, and in a matter of minutes of Rigby and Alex swinging the protesting hose around, the grounds were clean of paint, and utterly flooded.

"Don't worry, all this will go away as the ground soaks it up, and the sun evaporates it." Alex stated, shutting the steamvalve to the water pump.

"I hope so, or Benson will bust us for flood damage next!" Rigby replied.

"C'mon, lets go find Mordecai."

Rigby hopped on the tailboard of the big engine as Alex put on steam to the main drive. The big machine began to slowly crawl across the field.

* * *

><p>Mordecai had just come off shift running the snackbar. Walking through the field, he took the time to notice the late parts of a glorious sunrise. The sky was not yet blue, but gold, and the sun was a yellow disc of light in the east, high in the air now. It felt almost like autumn.<p>

"Mordecai!"

Just the voice he wanted to hear.

"Hi Margaret." He called to her with open arms, which she ran into.

"Hiiii." She cooed, breathing heavily.

"You were in a hurry!"

"Yeah."

"Margaret I've been thinking, ever since that old scungeball fired you..."

Margaret laughed sweetly at this remark.

"Ever since you got fired, Ive been worried about you, how will you keep that apartment? I can try and help you out financially..."

"Mordecai, I've got you, that's what matters to me right now. You're already helping me."

"But you need a place to live!"

"I've...got..." Margaret trailed off. "Nowhere. I'll blow my savings on staying in the apartment, and then I'm sunk." She had a defeated smile on her face.

"No you aren't, we're going to find you a place to stay right now, you can pay the last rent today and be out of there by tomorrow."

"Mordecai..."

"No I mean it. No more of this loss and too bad crap, its time for people around here to start helping eachother, might as well be us."

"Eileen says she'll split her paycheck with me, it's awful nice of her."

"That is nice of her."

"Still, I wasn't making enough as it was on a full paycheck."

"Welcome to the club."

"Well at least now, with the job and my awful supervisor out of the way, I've got time to go on another date tonight."

Mordecai grinned at this.

A steam whistle cut through the morning air.

"Lo there, lovebirds!" Alex called out from Oswald's driving platform.

Up came the traction engine, pulling a mass of tangled vines, roots, branches and dead shrubbery in a run-down old staved carriage.

"Just cleaned out the western ditch network, boy was it ever clogged! Would you believe I found a parking meter in there?"

Mordecai stiffened at this.

"What's wrong?" Margaret asked, seeing his worried look.

"N-nothing." Mordecai stammered. "Alex? What did you do with that M-meter...?"

"Killed it of course!" Alex responded. "Horrid little thing, I unearthed it and all it did in thanks was shriek at me, so I put it out of its misery!"

Mordecai, more than noticeably, relaxed.

"What?" Margaret asked, confused and concerned. "You...killed a parking meter?"

"Killed it dead!" Alex replied, proudly. "With a big stick."

The two avians began laughing.

"Hey, I've got an idea about a place you can live, just for now." Mordecai said aside to Margaret.

* * *

><p>"Stay in the workshop?" Alex asked. "Of course you can stay in the workshop, my engine house is your engine house, that is if you don't mind a bit of good clean soot and oil and...Maksim, he shouldn't bother you that much though! Ill see about making up a room in the Attic loft."<p>

"Oh neat, there's an attic?" Mordecai asked.

"There will be by this afternoon!"

They all chuckled at this.

"Thanks so much Alex." Margaret said sweetly.

"Nonsense, life sucks, so I'll just help make it suck a little less."

* * *

><p>Benson trudged the fields. Even when things seemed orderly, he could find fault with whatever was around him. Too many leaves to his right, they would need raking. A tree in the hedgerow seemed askew, Benson wondered if a tow truck could pull it upright.<p>

He knew deep down that all this work was to distract him from his turmoilous inner self. Work had always been the answer, it had held his parents off as long as he could from kicking him out of the house, it had kept him alive in the early years, and made him "successful" in more recent times. He didn't feel successful. It was funny to him how no matter how well one made off, there was always someone higher up on the totem pole trying to squash you like a roach, in his own case, Mister Maellard. True, Maellard had reinstated Benson after he had risked his life to save him from the giant menopausal ogre-ish supervisor, Susan, but things had not changed much as he had hoped they would. Then there was the matter of Alex. Benson did not know what to think of the young man who had strangely wandered into the midst of all their lives that hot day, on a flying ship no less. He seemed quite well adapt with machinery, but absolutely nothing else. It seemed every job he gave Alex would end up being mechanized in some way which he did not ask for, with a gigantic machine that would spew from the doors of his bottomless workshop. Benson had a fiendishly intense curiosity to see what lay inside, if it was just a black hole which spewed out anything which Alex summoned up. Stranger things _had_ happened. He was constantly finding the shallow wheeltracks of the recurring steam traction engine, and could use them to even trace Alex's movements if he needed to. He certainly meant well, and wasn't what he would call a "slacker", but he was just too eccentric to be fully trustable.

He came upon the place where he had seen the smathering of paintball paint, and was delighted to see it gone, and furthermore the nearby rainwater ditches had been cleared as he had ordered. His happiness at this job's completion then turned to that of dismay of another being created as he saw the tremendous and inexplicable puddles of water on the ground nearby.

"I'm gonna fire him, I am gonna fire him..."

Benson checked himself. It wasn't _that_ much water, and the ground would soak it up, he knew that perfectly well, and something told him that Alex knew that perfectly well too.

"Still, he'll be hearing about this."

* * *

><p>Margaret and Mordecai struggled to move the large, overstuffed cardboard box down the stairs. The apartment manager looked at them both glaringly.<p>

"I feel like we just did this." Margaret said.

"We did, but don't worry, this is the last box."

"Amazing how life can throw you around, aint it?"

"Suuurreee is."

They two struggled down into the foyer, and out onto the stoop.

The traction engine stood on the side of the street, wheels ground up onto the curb, Alex waiting for them with a big covered wagon in tow, to serve as a moving van.

He presently had the drive-clutch disengaged, and the engine was turning it's crankshaft over, a reggae-beat pounding through the pistons and the stack. Alex, paying no heed to anyone around, was cheerfully singing to it, and decently on key as well.

"_Happy ever after in the engine-house, Norfolk's got a set of brand new stays!"_

"_Brunel's got a new ship being built of iron, but how ever will he get her down the ways!"_

"_Obla-di, Obla-da, Life goes Onnnn-Woah, La la yes-sir life goes on!"_

"_Obla-di, Obla-da, Life goes Onnnn-Raah, La la how our life goes on!"_

The avians laughed at the lively little song.

"I didn't know he was a beatles fan." Mordecai said.

"I'm not!" Alex responded, chuckling, having heard him. "I just like a couple of their songs."

"We're all ready to go!" Mordecai replied.

"Right, hop up on the tailboard if you please!"

Margaret and Mordecai did so.

Alex shut the throttle, and before the shaft had even stopped turning, he slid the gear-drive out of neutral and into third gear, and engaged the drive clutch. The engine lurched forward, lagged, and then picked up speed as he re-opened the throttle.

"Off we go, hang on back there, I'm going to take her up to road speed!" Alex shouted down.

In a half minute, they were keeping up with traffic a solid thirty miles per hour, however it felt like a hundred and ten because of the engine's lack of suspension. Every pebble and crack in the road was felt as a vicious jump, dip, or jolt.

* * *

><p>Oswald pulled up to the workshop. Margaret had never seen it before, and was amazed at the assortment of machinery that sat in and around the building. The doors stood wide open, revealing a good portion of what was inside. The AVRO biplane stood outside the building, as well as a large steam railway derrick sitting on a piece of track that had not been there before. Part of the right hand wall of the building had unfolded like a giant door, and out of which protruded a larger crane boom, hinged in many places. Both these derricks were at work completely modifying the roof at one end of the workshop, making a raised celestory area with cupolas and windows. Maksim and two of his compatriots worked in and around the cranes, one controlling the steam derrick, another sawing wood over a great circular blade which spin around at great speed.<p>

"That up there is your room Margaret, part of the loft we are extending and making livable, and we're putting a second bathroom up there. Now it's not much, but it is definitely inhabitable!"

"That's way too much work to do for me!" Margaret exclaimed.

"Nonsense!" Alex replied. "I thought I was going to have to modify the building at some point, say if I brought in something too big to put inside it, or what have you, so I made it modifyable. It's just a big wooden frame slapped together with metal joiners and covered in metal paneling, although we are giving the new part insulation and steam-heat if the nights get cold."

Oswald shugged to a halt, and Maksim immediately dispatched his two men with curt Russian language. The two men began to help unpack the moving van.

"Where did these guys come from?" Mordecai asked.

"Maksim was rather overwhelmed when I told him we were going to extend the building, and asked for more help. Two of his friends came in on the twelve oclock train, they sure are efficient."

* * *

><p>"Here you are, it might be a bit noisy down below late in the evening just because Maksim and I have work to do, just give me a shout if you see anything you need changed while we can still change it." Alex said, excusing himself.<p>

Margaret looked around, astonished, at the room which was twice the size of what she had moved out of. The finished walls had been paneled with beautiful dark oaken coffers. Gas lanterns hung from the ceiling and were mounted on the walls, and a gigantic steam radiator stretched across one of the walls, below a carefully made paned window. The fifth and far wall was open to the air, and it's section was just beginning to lift into place, the unseen crane working hard. There was a stove of all things in the left hand corner, and a desk. An elegant old four-poster bed sat in the middle of the room, waiting for the mattress in the moving van. The ceiling itself was a cathedral type, showing it's beams and trusses all the way up to the metal of it's roof paneling.

"Ohh Mordecai this is wonderful!" Margaret chirped, jumping up and hugging him as tight as she could.

This crushed the breath out of him, but he didn't mind at all. He laughed and spun her around, her legs off the ground.

Margaret pressed the side of her head up against his. This had already lasted longer than most of her other relationships. Mordecai was just the gentleman she suspected him to be, and moreso. She felt something she had not felt since her father died, she felt loved.

From below the floorboards, there was the dull, melodious noise of some obscure, unseen piece of machinery starting up, Alex's voice fading in with it.

"Obla-di, Obla-da, life goes onnnn, Braaah-La la how the life goes on!"

"Obla-di, Obla-da, life goes onnnn, Braaah-La la how the life goes on!"

* * *

><p>Benson looked out his high window, he had just finished tallying up taxes, a tiring, tedious and draining business. He was amazed at what he saw.<p>

Alex steamed across the field on a traction engine, smaller and cleaner looking than Oswald with bright red wheels, pulling a gigantic version of a roto-tiller. Rigby raked leaves furiously, and Mordecai was hard at work watering the plants. Skips was running the newly fixed Lawnmower, the square old _Pacer 700_ across the field.

"Well I'll be damned." The gumball machine said to himself. "If that isn't once in a blue moon." He was taken with a profound sense of gratitude.

Opening the window, he shouted out to them, even though he knew they could not hear him, from the distance and noise of machinery.

"Great work guys, keep this up and you'll get a days bonus!"


	7. Overtures in The River

Mordecai bid Benson farewell. Work had been easier for him today, in anticipation of his date with Margaret. He set off on his walk across the field to meet her, they had both wanted to go to the riverside again, and so that was where they were to have their second date. The walk was made short in Mordecai's mind by his constant thoughts of her. She, as of late, filled his entire mind. He had been taken with a sort of "Margaret fever", and he loved it. He was grateful to the great clockworks of circumstance, for when did one hear of a crush, especially one of the caliber he had for Margaret, being answered by the other, and blossoming into something more? Almost never, if that.

* * *

><p>"Hi Mordecai!" she called to him from across the dirt road.<p>

"Hi!" He replied, they ran to eachother.

"Shall we?"

"Let's."

Locking arms, they strolled towards the river. The sun hung low in the sky, it was very late in the afternoon.

* * *

><p>The water flowed slowly by. They strolled down the windswept riverbank, past a lone white house, and through the trees that were now showing real signs of the flourish of colors which was autumn.<p>

A dull roar soon became audible above the watery noise of the river. A big concrete dam crossed the river here, a complex network of big spillways letting water flow over it in arches of white spray.

"This is the spot I always liked to come to when I was little." Margaret said. "The only way to see it is from under the dam."

"Under it?" Mordecai asked, raising an eyebrow.

He was astounded at what Margaret did next.

She reached down and began to pull her shirt up, over her head and off, revealing a turquoise bikini top. She then unbuttoned her cutoff jeans and worked them off, showing the matching other half of the bathing suit.

Mordecai just stared, beak slightly agape, completely speechless.

Margaret saw this and giggled, throwing her shirt at him, which landed on his face.

He had missed this flirtatious side of her, which had not been seen for several days. Now it was back in force. He pulled the shirt off his face and saw her several steps away. She beckoned him, and he followed.

With a fluidic motion, she jumped off the high bank of the river overlooking the dam, where the land dropped off. She sailed down through the air, a good forty feet, before disappearing into the water with a small splash. In a few seconds, she re-appeared, laughing, and waved to him.

"Cmon in, the water's fine!" She called up.

Mordecai, drowning out any second thoughts, jumped in after her.

He sailed down through the air, instantly regretting his choice. He was again assaulted by the feeling that gripped him when the airplane first let go it's hook from the airship, in a temporary free-fall. Then, the cool water arrested his downward hurtle. It washed over him in cold, fluidic waves. The coldness knocked the breath out of him, and he blasted to the surface, breathing hard, trying to get used to the temperature.

The dam towered above him, it's spillways vomiting water a little ways down the structure.

Margaret was laughing at him. Mordecai had hit the water like a board. She swam over to him.

"I used to swim all the time before they closed the town pool, I miss doing this." She said.

"I never swam much." Mordecai replied. "Only when I had to."

"It feels so good, we both have to do it more."

The more Mordecai dwelled on it, the more he saw she was right. Water made you weightless, you could move in three dimensions instead of two. The wonderful feeling of buoyancy cancelling gravity made them both giddy. Margaret dove under the water, and Mordecai treaded water until he felt something brush his leg.

He looked under the water and saw nothing, just a rocky riverbottom. Suddenly, he heard a large splash behind him and felt something crimson and full of laughter push him under the water. He drifted over the bottom of the river, spinning himself around, he saw Margaret floating in front of him, a big smile on her face. They drew close together and kissed under the water, letting the buoyancy of their combined held breath draw them to the surface.

As the sun set, the two of them swam over to the great spillways, and sat themselves on a wet concrete ledge in the dam's wall, a couple feet above the water. Here they sat, between the cold wall of the dam and the shimmering wall of water falling down in front of them from the open gates atop the structure. They were in a surreal "space between", a tunnel, one side of which was stone, and the other side water. The beautiful, profound setting was made absolutely ethereal by the color and shape which the outside world was turned by the waterfall. They sat on the ledge and warmed their wet bodies by hugging eachother close, whispering sweet little nothings to eachother.

"Mmm, I'm tired." Margaret breathed.

"Me too, had lots of work today. We could sleep here for the night."

"Hehehe!"

"What?"

"I love you."

She nestled into him, the over-tight bathing suit straining to remain intact. Mordecai just held her and stared off into space, contemplating the last three words she had just said.

* * *

><p>-<strong>That was a Mini-chapter, this part needed it's own was what I thought. More to come soon.<strong>


	8. Day of Disasters

**Authors Notes Regarding Chapter: This breaks the day-by-day format the chapters have adhered to until now. This takes place about eleven or twelve days after the last chapter, just to give you a good time-frame reference. Also, the next chapter will take place beginning in the evening of the same day that this chapter relates.**

**Hope that clears some things up chronologically.**

**And now: we continue our story.**

* * *

><p>The days had steadily trudged on by. Each morning, without fail, the crisp air of the first days of autumn was filled with the sound and smoke of Alex's traction engine. Business at the workshop was picking up, contracts were coming in from all over town to refurbish old, neglected boilers in the basements of town buildings, jobs which Alex attacked with fervor. Rigby and John had been spending increasing amounts of time together, and Rigby, when not at work, was usually found in John's sport gunnery store. Mordecai and Margaret had become inseparable. They did not go out on dates anymore, they did not need the excuse, or any other for that matter, to spend time together. Every day they found out something new about eachother, as it seemed. However, from the day that she had told him, under no uncertain terms that she loved him, loved him with all her heart, his head had been thrown spinning. He loved her back, more than all the world, but he simply could not say it back. He had never told anybody he had loved them, because he never had loved anybody, not like this. Other than that, the last few days since then had been oddly uneventful. When Margaret was busy looking for a job, Mordecai was left alone, either to work, or be bored.<p>

* * *

><p>It was on a bright, misty morning that he decided to go take a hike to the workshop to see what his eccentric friend Alex was up to.<p>

He strolled over the hills of the parkland. The morning air was fresh, and calm. Autumn had arrived, and seemed to be busily unpacking it's things. The color change of the trees was in full swing, and each one seemed to relish in it's new color before the coming winter like girls trying on their new dresses for a grand seasonal dance. There was the workshop, far down the hill atop which he stood, through the trees and scrub brush, over the railroad tracks and far across the swaying golden grass. Down the hill the bluejay jogged, and up the embankment of the railway. Here he stopped short, as the rails pulsated with an odd sort of motion and sound as his foot touched them. He had neglected to look down the line, and sprang backwards with a cry of surprise as he saw headlights glaring in his face.

Up came a massive, grime-slathered old high-nose diesel locomotive, its coppertone and white paintshceme almost covered in exhaust-ash, dirt and rust. The engine sported old four-sided markerlights and an old pyle double-gyralight which strobed furiously in all directions, causing Mordecai to shield his eyes. The cab sat over the engine compartment and was offset to one end, and the big six-wheeled trucks clattered furiously. The hidden motors roared, concealed behind their louvered panels as the locomotive screamed by, followed by a second, and a third, a triple-header. After the diesel-trio, a long line of black, oil-smathered tankcars blocked his path to the workshop, and kept blocking his path for several minutes until the last car of the train, an old blue bay-window caboose, which was completely uninhabited, passed by.

"Jeez, that was a long one." He said to nobody in particular, crossing the tracks.

He strolled up to the workshop after a long trudge across the field. The biplane's tail stuck halfway out of the workshop main door, and the towering traction engine was nowhere to be seen.

There sat Alex, in front of the big ramshackle building, with quite an odd assortment of things. Ten or Eleven picnic tables, By Mordecai's reckoning, sat in a large rectangle shape, end to end. Atop these tables, following their length all the way around the large rectangle, with curves at each corner, were several large loops of miniature railway track. Speeding about on these were several odd little model steam locomotives, the likes of which Mordecai had never seen before. Alex stood inside the enclosed space created by the table layout, busying himself.

"What's this?" Mordecai asked.

"Aha, Mordecai!" Alex replied. "I haven't seen you properly for a couple of days! How are you!"

"Bored."

"Splendid, splendid."

"What?"

"Come in here, I've got something to show you!"

Mordecai ducked under the tables and into the little enclosed area. Alex had a few chairs set up, and boxes of what looked like oilcans and maintenance tools, except all on a smaller scale.

"I've been meaning to let the little live steamers stretch their legs for some time!" Alex stated.

"Live steamer?" Mordecai asked.

"Ah yes, a term me and the rest of the steam community affectionately give to any miniature working model steam engine."

"So these aren't just toys then?" Mordecai asked.

"Oh good heavens no, these are real-deal scale model steam locomotives, just sized down. Careful, they are just as hot as the big ones, so don't burn yourself."

Mordecai looked around the layout. A crimson-painted locomotive was tearing around the loop, hauling a string of matching coaches.

"That one there is an Indian P-class Tenwheeler, or four-six-o, that's the wheel arrangement you see. That particular one served on the East Indian Railway." Alex explained, pointing out the locomotive Mordecai was looking at.

"That big double-ended affair over there is a Kenyan Garratt, four-eight-two plus two-eight-four, I named her "Nairobi" after the location of the shed they ran from. That engine you see on the outer loop is a South African 15CB class four-eight-two."

Mordecai raised an eyebrow.

"Look, look, the technical jargon might be fun for me but it doesn't matter." Alex laughed. "Mordecai I think it's high time you and I talked trains."

"Trains?" Mordecai asked.

"Yes sir, trains. It's where my interest in steam and engineering started from, it all started with trains, namely steam locomotives."

"Why trains?"

"I don't know, that's just it, I had the _disease_ ever since I was a baby, nothing but trains, I couldn't get enough of them, and I still cant even now. Mordo, a railroad is a wonderous thing, not only is it just two strips of iron held together with wood, it's a channel of industry and good will, a bridge between the many cultures of distant lands, and thus, a passageway for knowledge, mystery, energy, story and laughter. The steam locomotives which ran upon them are living creatures, great fire-eaters that walk on lines of steel and flow with the blood of iron and men which the years have erased from all other places. The trains behind them move people and things great, great distances, only stopping at lands end. Trains are orderly and predictable, they follow the paths which they are given, unlike most things in this crazy world we live in."

Mordecai, surprised at Alex's eloquence, was speechless at the immense amount of sentiment he had just poured out.

"Now you see why I love them so?" Alex asked.

"Yeah I _guess!_" the bluejay replied.

"Now I didn't say I love everything about the railroads." Alex continued. "Progress has destroyed the meaning of "railroad" as I know it, or once knew it. Instead of those wonderful black iron monsters of steam, we have these idiotic half-computerized rolling boxes, propelled by internal combustion or electricity from an overhead wire. People have the audacity to call these things locomotives, they aren't locomotives, they are _units_. Everything about the stereotypical modern railroad is modular, there is no soul left in it, from signals to pointwork. Now don't get me wrong, I find this stuff interesting, especially the earliest examples of the new forms of motive-power, when the new machines co-existed with steam power instead of drowning it out, but it just isn't the same. I'm a purist I suppose, sue me."

Mordecai nodded, he understood what Alex was saying to a certain degree.

"This railroad here is a good one." Alex said, pointing across the field to the tracks Mordecai had crossed. "I have seen some very interesting things running down that line, whoever is running that railroad, or managing it's rolling stock, has their head screwed on straight!"

"So why did you want to tell me all this?" Mordecai asked, sincerely.

"Because you said you were bored, my good fellow!" Alex replied. "Mate, hang out by that railway line more often, bring Margaret there, I don't care, just watch the trains. Wonderful things happen along railway tracks."

Mordecai nodded. It certainly was an odd suggestion, but he had heard stranger from Alex, and his advice had a strange way of working.

His thought process was interrupted by the loud noise of a truck engine drawing close and decreasing in RPM until it droned down to a dirty idle.

Mordecai turned to see a tremendous rig, a gigantic old Kenworth truck towing a ten-wheeled flatbed. On this flatbed sat an enourmous object all covered in dirty tarpaulin and cloth, almost as long as the flatbed itself, and completely indistinguishable.

Alex was hurriedly stopping the model locomotives rushing around the table and blowing out their tiny fires, and when he had finished, he sprinted as hard as he could over to the big blue cab of the truck. He saw Alex engage in invigorated talked with the driver, and when the latter stepped out of the cab, Alex gave him a powerful handshake and what appeared to be a tip.

Mordecai jogged up to the truck, wanting to see the obviously important object it carried.

Alex flung himself upon the tarps, tearing them off. The raggedy old cloth peeled off like dead layers of skin.

Alex began to laugh, sounding quite insane, as the object began to reveal itself. Hundreds of intricately layed out metal parts, covered in faded, chipped paint and rust. Mordecai could make out wheels, pipes, tanks and by now, familiar looking rods.

Alex gave one more, almost Herculean, pull. Off came the last and largest tarp, tearing on something sharp as it fell off. There on the flatbed sat a very neglected looking steam locomotive, in quite a sorry state. Having seen what was in the workshop enough times, Mordecai could tell it was missing pieces, and the rust had obviously taken over to the point that things would not move unless unfrozen.

Despite this, Alex seemed overjoyed, and began shouting incoherent words and phrases. Mordecai could make out "Beautiful, wonderous machine!" and "Magical old smoke breather!"

Mordecai strolled around to the back of the truck, to which the front of the engine was pointed. Through the rust and grime, Mordecai tilted his head at the strange patterns scrolled onto the engine in paint. A white and red eight-pointed star adorned the front and center of the round smokebox, and the two odd plates to either side were covered in tarnished brass plates in the shape of arrows, circles, ornate scrollwork, and great birds.

"Where's _this_ from?" Mordecai asked Alex.

Mordecai was quite surprised when Alex turned around, for his eyes were filled with unrestrained tears.

"This – beautiful lady..." Alex replied, a slight distortion in his tone, "This lovely thing is from India, from the Southern Railway's Madurai division shed to be precise. This little beauty is a YP class meter-gauge standard pacific, one of the last YP's to be withdrawn in South India."

"How did you get it?" Mordecai asked, genuinely interested.

"I bought her from a scrap merchant for pocket change, shipment here cost three times more than the locomotive itself, and now that she's safe here, I'm going to bring her back to wonderful, colorful, seething _life_!"

Mordecai laughed inwardly. Alex really did sound crazy when he talked. He knew he meant to, and could follow through on what he said, but he was still absolutely raving mad. Still, madness had built the marvelous flying ship, and all the other creations that sat in the field. He did feel for him, though, seeing him so torn up by the poor condition of a machine he was so passionate for, maybe there was something more to it.

"Maksim!" Alex called from atop the locomotive, having climbed atop it's boiler.

"Dah!" Maksim shouted from one of the upper workshop windows.

"Come help me lug this old workhorse off this truck!"

"I shall prepare crane!"

* * *

><p>Margaret came down the iron stairway, light shined in through the windows. She stretched her wings up in the air and yawned, she had had a pleasurably long sleep and woken up just a few minutes ago, and had gotten a chance to freshen up.<p>

"Anybody home?" She asked, looking around. Aside from the noise of a truck outside, there hadn't been much to disturb her today, which was odd.

She looked toward the back of the shop for signs of life, shivering from her feet touching the cold iron rails embedded in the cement floor.

She heard a slight rumble behind her, and whirled to see a gigantic iron something rolling silently toward her.

"Aah!" She exclaimed, dodging out of the way.

The steam locomotive slithered by, destroyed a crate lying on the floor, and then was brought to an abrupt halt when the chain attatched to it's front end paid out fully with a metallic twang.

"I tell you, not too fast!" Maksim complained, noticing Margaret.

"Sorry!" Alex replied from atop the traction engine.

They had used Oswald to push the locomotive into the shop once they had gotten it on the set of rails in the floor. The crane boom had been dropped down all the way and the locomotive had been "poled in" from a distance.

"I don't mean to be rude, but you almost crushed me." Margaret called out.

"Terribly sorry my dear, but almost doesn't count when you don't have OSHA staring over your shoulder!" Alex replied.

"Please ignore my friend here, you can call him idiot." Maksim stated.

Alex glowered at him, and Margaret stifled a laugh.

"Right Maksim, let us get to work on this beauty!"

"What does need?"

"The absolute works, new crown sheet, for starters!"

"Daft kapitalist!" Maksim burst out. "Have not replaced crown sheet on anyting for twenty years!"

"And I've _never_ done it! Let's refresh ourselves!"

* * *

><p>Through the misty morning, over the fields of swaying gold, a short, portly green man came.<p>

He was accompanied by a white spectre which floated above the ground, its only discernable features being a face, and a hand. The green man had spied on the happenings down in the valley for several days, and had found them exceedingly interesting.

"Hey, highfives, theres nobody on the big machine down there, what say you we have that fun we've been talking about?" He asked the ghost.

The ghost nervously looked around, and then nodded.

"Wohooo!" shouted the green man, running down the hill as fast as his stubby legs would carry him.

* * *

><p>"And that's why these pacifics were made the standard class of meter gauge passenger engine right up until the end of steam on Indian Railways." Alex finished explaining, hammering on a wrench until the nut it clasped came loose.<p>

Mordecai nodded, not having absorbed half of what Alex had said.

Margaret sat contentedly, perched on top of the locomotive and looking out over the field.

Suddenly, a loud chuffing was heard.

"Funny, that sound's like Oswald." Alex said. "Probably Maksim taking her to do an odd job."

"I am right here, Tovarsch." Maksim's feet replied, protruding from underneath the locomotive.

"Did you send your co-workers out on an errand?" Alex asked.

"Nyet!" Said Mikhail, sticking his soot-covered face out of the locomotive's smokestack.

"Nyet!" Said Andre, equally covered in soot, kicking open the smokebox door. "Ve are removing superheater!"

"OH MY GOD." Alex roared, jumping down. "SOMEONE IS STEALING MY TRACTION ENGINE!"

From outside, they heard a deep, raspy voice shouting, "Wooohhooo!"

"That's not good!" Mordecai exclaimed. "That's muscleman!"

"Who?" Alex asked, enraged.

"Muscleman!" Mordecai replied. "He's always up to no good, believe me your engine isn't going to stay in one piece for long at the hands of that guy!"

Alex sprinted as fast and low as he could to the door, and saw the traction engine speeding across the field.

"How the hell did he figure out how to put it in fourth gear?" Alex spat. "Maksim!"

"Dah!"

"We'll never catch him on foot, help me get the aircraft ready, We've got to stop that imbecile!"

Margaret and Mordecai looked at eachother.

"I've gotta find Benson!" The Jaybird said, his heart filling with dread.

* * *

><p>"Hell Yeeeaayyaahhh!" Muscleman shrieked, hammering on his chest as the gigantic trackless locomotive smashed through the carefully laid stone wall it had helped to build no more than two weeks ago.<p>

High-five ghost held onto a hand-iron and shook his head vigorously in disapproval.

"Muscleman, you could kill someone, like us!" The ghost yelled in it's melancholy voice. "You don't know how to drive a steam engine!"

"You know who ELSE doesn't know how to drive a steam engine?" Muscleman asked, then answering his own question. "Mmyyy MMMOOM!"

The traction engine launched itself over a small gully, pitching it's front end up in the best wheelie it could muster, hurtling through the air and crashing down into the hedgerow, tearing through the brush.

Up came the road into town, and Muscleman, who had more or less figured out the steering mechanism, swerved onto it.

"Like I said muscle-man!" someone shouted. Muscleman looked over to see a policecar, number sixteen-fifty-eight driving alongside him in the wrong lane. "You know how the break the law in _all the right ways!"_

"Wooohhooooo!" They both shrieked, the officer spinning out in the middle of the road.

* * *

><p>Benson parked the old 1980's Pontiac four-door grand prix in his usual spot on the other side of the road outside the apartment flat. He had forgotten the keys to the Maellard house, and was in a fowl mood. He quickly ascended the elevator to his floor, gotten the keys, and got in the elevator again to the lobby. The little overhead light ticked to the "L", and as soon as the doors opened, Benson was surprised to see Skips there waiting for him.<p>

"Benson." Skips said.

"H-hi Skips, how did you know that I..."

"Nevermind." The Yeti replied sternly. "Muscleman and high-five ghost just stole Alex's traction engine and are on a rampage with it."

Benson remained silent for several seconds.

"THEY WHAT?" He burst out.

"Yep, they..." Skips was cut off as Benson blew past him.

Skips followed him to the front door of the apartment building, which by then, Benson was running out into the street.

The gumball machine sprinted as fast as he could toward his car, paying no heed to anything else. He did not see the gigantic silver grill, black sides, whitewall tires and glaring headlights of the Lincoln Continental that came roaring down the street, that is until it was too late.

Skips gasped as Benson was completely pummeled by the gigantic old car, speeding at the up-side of forty miles per hour. There was the sickening sound of shattering glass and grinding metal, not of the car, but of Benson's body. The driver slammed on the brakes, but the Continental was a massive car, and took several seconds to skid to a stop, during which time Benson disappeared under the car with sickening flailing motions.

"BENSON!" Skips shrieked, his voice raising an octave. The Yeti ran out into the street.

The driver of the car, an old man in a goatee, was sullenly getting out to see what he had hit. Skips hurled himself in front of the car, grabbed its front bumper, and with nearly super-human strength, pushed the car backwards.

"Oh god, Benson!" He said, staring at the cracked globe and mangled metal cylinder of his supervisor.

"Looks like your gumball machine's broken! I'm awful sorry about that, but the middle of the road is a stupid place for a gumball machine!" The driver of the car said, laughlingly, not recognizing the severity of the situation, and not seeing the battered face on the glass globe. "What do you say I reimburse you fully for the cost of a new one?"

Skips just stared, wide-eyed. he couldn't decide which was more horrifying, Benson or the driver.

He whirled around and shouted for an ambulance.

* * *

><p>"Why the hell wont she start!" Alex hissed through clenched teeth.<p>

The propeller slowly chopped the air, the incessant whir of the electric starter becoming very tiring to his ears.

"I vill try manual start!" Maksim replied.

"Contact!" Alex shouted down, disengaging the starter and priming the big radial engine again.

"No no, don't prime, you'll flood cylinders!" the big Russian yelled, throwing himself at the wooden propeller.

"Uuurrrah!" He grunted, spinning the propeller with such force, that the entire airplane shuddered.

The engine sputtered, spat, and coughed.

"Clear cylinders, try decreasing mixture!"

Alex did so. With a tremendous crack, the engine abruptly stopped and began to run backwards, and two huge fireballs shot out of the exhaust pipes.

"Whoa, WHOA!" Alex shrieked, cutting back the mixture frantically.

The airplane shook, the fireballs turned into jets of flame and then black smoke, the engine emitted a tremendous bang and began rotating forwards again.

"Maksim hop on, and bring your Kalashnikov, as soon as they see that thing they'll stop!"

Maksim saluted, darting into the workshop. He soon reappeared with an AK-47, which made Mordecai and Margaret start backwards with fright.

"Haha, don't vorry, ees not loaded!" Maksim laughed heartily as he climbed into the front seat of the airplane. "I save ammunition for more important heppenings!"

The moment the big Russian plopped himself down in the wicker chair, Alex, looking quite like a deranged early twentieth-century militia-man, donned his big square flight goggles and advanced the throttle as far as it would go. The big engine cleared its throat, roared, shrieked, and then screamed. The plane leapt forwards and began rolling along through the grass, turning in a wide arc to avoid hitting the workshop. As soon as Alex straightened the rudder, it lifted into the air and barely cleared the treeline.

"I've got a bad feeling, this isn't going to end well!" Mordecai said to Margaret, running after the plane, and Margaret running after him.

* * *

><p>"What's going on with this thing?" Muscleman asked. The big gauge in front of him that had been reading above the one-hundred mark had dropped to twenty.<p>

The traction engine was rolling pell-mell down a hill.

"We're going too fast!" Highfive ghost exclaimed. "Where's the brake!"

"I don't know, for all I know it doesn't have a brake!" Muscleman retorted. "Here, I bet it's this lever." He eyed a lever which protruded from the assembly of whirling gears. To him, it looked like just as much of a brake as all the other levers he hadn't tried.

He pulled it, and when it didn't move, he pulled it as hard as he could. He instantly regretted it.

The lever slid over a large half-disc on the main shaft, which slid several gears sideways and out of mesh with eachother. The cranks and pistonrods slowly drew to a halt, but the traction engine, no longer clutched to it's propulsive drive which had been offering up so much drag, sped up.

"Oh crap, dude I think this is bad!" Muscleman admitted as the engine began to uncontrollably careen down the hill, faster than even he had intended to go.

"What do we do!" the ghost asked, frantically.

"Jump man, jump!"

Muscleman catapulted himself off the engine and landed in a bush, the ghost simply floating through the air down towards him.

The two looked in dismay as the engine rolled away at freeway-speed. Down the hill, the road curved, along with the gigantic ditch. With no 'one present to steer the engine, it took the curve, disobeyed it's direction, and flung itself into the ditch. The engine nosed down and buried itself with a sickening crunch and a metallic screech. They saw the crane-boom on it's front tilt raucously, bend, and then snap off. The front axle bent, its wheels splaying at odd angles, and somewhere, a concealed pipe broke, venting off a tremendous cloud of steam.

"Ohhh mmaan." Muscleman panted. "I think...I actually think we're in trouble."

"You know who _else_ think's we're in trouble?" The ghost asked him, shaking furiously.

* * *

><p>"There they are, down there!" Maksim shouted, pointing. Alex banked the airplane into a power-dive.<p>

"I'll teach that bastard!" He yelled.

* * *

><p>"Duck!" Highfive ghost shrieked, flinging himself at the ground.<p>

"That's not a duck!" Muscleman replied. "It's a biplane!"

The agile airplane shot over their heads, mere feet from the ground. It pitched up into the sky and stood on it's wingtip.

"He's gonna kill us!" Muscleman shouted, running as best he could, until he tripped on a rock and fell flat on his green, bloated face.

Highfive ghost flew onto the horizon.

"Thanks for the help, fuckface!" Muscleman yelled in a fury. Behind him, he heard the sound of the airplane's engine throttling down, and the sound of wheels meeting the earth. He turned himself over and shrieked as he saw the propeller and engine cowling of the biplane slowly draw up over him and stop, the wooden blades flailing viciously at him as the engine idled.

"You, you retarded vomit-colored imbecile!" He heard someone say.

He went into near hysterics when he saw a stocky Russian man with a machinegun step out of the plane. He, and it's pilot, who had screamed the insults, ran by Muscleman without a second thought, instead heading for the wrecked traction engine.

Muscleman hoisted himself to his feet, panting. When he saw the Russian man drop the machinegun to aid the younger man, he slowly trudged over.

He did not have a word to say as Alex began beraiting him.

"Why are there people like you?" He asked through clenched teeth. "Why are there people like you, who's mission in life is to destroy things that the people like me put so much effort into to make right?"

"Just – Just having some fun man." For once in his life, Muscleman felt that he had gone a bit too far.

* * *

><p>Margaret and Mordecai could not find Benson anywhere, and had returned to the workshop.<p>

"What do we do?" He asked, panting.

"I don't know, there doesn't seem to be much we _can_ do!" She replied.

"Hey, the smaller engine's gone!" Mordecai noticed, pointing out the second traction engine's absence. The airplane also sat outside with its engine stopped, with nobody appearing to be in or around it.

There was a high pitched whistle. Over the fields came the smaller engine; "Pride of Ledyard", polished red wheels vividly reflecting the sunlight. Towering behind it, being towed, was the form of a very sorry looking Oswald. As the procession drew closer, they saw the damage that had been done. The gigantic engine's front axle had been completely mangled and was missing its wheels, and the signature front end crane arm was missing. The smokebox had sustained damage along its bottom and several sheered rivet heads could be seen. The front of the engine was mounted on a towing assembly with its own wheels, and behind Oswald itself was a flatcar on which rested the missing wheels, the badly bent crane boom and several other pieces.

"Oh god." Mordecai gaped, hurrying up.

Alex sat Dejectedly up on the driving platform.

"What happened?" The bluejay asked.

"The idiots wrecked our traction engine." Alex replied.

"How bad is it?"

"From what I can see, not too bad. I have the _intrepid duo's_ general incompetence to thank, they let the fire go out, and by the time Oswald hit the ditch, there was almost no steam pressure left in the boiler to do any damage. I'd hate to think what could have happened if there was. They let the water level go way to low though, I bet there is firebox damage. That and the entire front end is all messed up."

Mordecai was saddened by this, and by the look on Alex's face. After having just had him open up about his deeper emotional ties to these machines, he could understand what having one nearly destroyed did to his friend.

"I wanna stay and help you fix it up." Mordecai replied.

Alex's expression softened.

"Im honored! Any help is appreciated, if you're really up to it."

"I'll help too!" Margaret chirped.

"You?" Mordecai and Alex both asked.

"It's about time I did something to repay you for letting me stay here." She replied.

"I guess...ill help too." Came a deeper raspy voice, with a shaken note to it.

Muscleman came scuffling through the front door.

"I felt really bad for wrecking that thing man, and Id like to try and get off on the right foot."

Alex was silent for a moment. "You know, why not. No real harm done, just a testament to how well this old teakettle is built. Good to meet you, green-man."

Muscleman offered no retort to the chastising nickname.

With that, the three of them got ready to pitch in with Alex and Maksim in the repair effort, which first consisted of getting the battered old machine inside and underneath the work-cranes. This effort lasted no more than two minutes, when it was suddenly interrupted.

"Oh that explains why you all wouldn't answer the house phone! You're all here!" Skips exclaimed, sprint-skipping into the workshop. "Ah, Alex, I see you've gotten your engine back, my condolences on the damage. Muscleman, that was a stupid-ass thing to do, and tell highfiveghost I said so too, you'll both probably get fired."

Muscleman looked down-trodden.

"Whats up skips?" Mordecai asked, seeing the Yeti's abnormally serious expression.

"Benson was just clobbered by a car, he's in the hospital."

"He's WHAT?" Mordecai, Margaret, Muscleman and Alex all yelled, dropping whatever tools they held.

* * *

><p>Mordecai, Rigby, Margaret, Alex, Pops, John, Muscleman, Highfive Ghost, Skips, Maksim, Mikhail and Andre all shuffled into the brightly lit, white room which wreaked of disinfectant.<p>

Benson lay on one of the beds, identical to all the other beds. He was wrapped in just about as many bandages and types of tape imaginable, and was hooked up to several painful looking tubes and hoses.

"Ohhhh...Benson..." Pops whispered, wiping away a tear.

"My god, he took it hard!" Alex scowled concernedly. "What kind of car was he hit by?"

"A Lincoln Continental, not that it matters." Skips replied, grimly.

"Yeah yep, that will just about DO it!" Alex nodded.

Benson groaned and tried to sit up.

"Benson, don't move." Skips instructed curtly.

Muscleman squirmed with unease.

"A-Alex." Benson groaned. "Ill h-have you reim-bursed fully for the damages...c-cau...caused to your equi...ipment. Musclem-man, youll agree t-to have it c-come out of yo-our pay...check...until it's payed off or you're...fired."

"Benson you calm down and don't worry about that now." Skips ordered. "You get rest."

"Benson I do appreciate it, but it isn't needed, I've got all the tooling I need to fix the old teakettle myself, plus some of your employees, who I am glad to call friends of mine, have expressed wishes to help me in the repair. No hard feelings with any of them." Alex stated.

At this, Benson seemed to relax, and visibly fell asleep. A man in a white coat and a mask hanging around his neck strolled up quietly.

"How is he doc?" Skips asked.

"This guy took just about the worst hit I've ever seen." The doctor related. "Ive got him on every pain killer we can mix safely. He had us real worried until we stabilized him, and its gonna be a long way back, but I think he should be more or less okay provided we give him the right treatment."

"Does it help or hurt his case with the fact that he's a...you know..." Skips asked tentatively.

"Well, luckily I've got a friend who restores vintage Cola machines, and he said he does gumball machines from time to time. I'm not sure about living ones, but your pal Benson here seems to have the same basic parts, so im counting on a bit of ingenuity on this guy's part." The doctor stated.

"Keep us informed." Skips nodded.

"Gentlemen I must ask you to go now, I've got some work to do on your friend here."

The group reluctantly shuffled out.

* * *

><p>The workshop was filled with life. Upon entering, Mordecai could not believe how much the vibrant energy changed the feel of the place.<p>

The Indian steam locomotive was being lifted high into the air, hanging from the overhead crane. It's wheels sat below, on the railsets in the floor. Andre sat on the boiler of the engine, high above, guiding the unseen Mikhail, who was up in the rafters, presumably operating the crane. Important pieces of the locomotive had already been removed and set aside on a table, Maksim was busy hammering bushings out of the mainrods.

Oswald sat, thoroughly dismantled, in a space adjacent to the locomotive. The big main wheels were sitting back in the shop, chocked in place. The boiler stood up on massive stands and jigs, devoid of it's smokebox and stack, and Alex was busy removing long tubes from out of it's front end. Highfive Ghost was obscured in a cloud of welding sparks as he welded two plates together.

"Ahh, Mordecai, come in!" Alex greeted him. "Amazing what this place looks like as an operating workshop instead of a museum, isn't it?"

Mordecai laughed, and laughed harder when he saw Margaret climb out of the firebox, round metal parts in her hands, and her face dotted with soot.

"Hehehehe, you look great!" He joked.

Margaret batted her eyelashes.

"Mordo, go help Margaret take out the staybolt caps, I showed her how, now she'll show you!" Alex told him.

"And boy does that ghost know how to seam-weld!" He said, admiringly, before returning to his work of removing the superheater pipes from their headers.


	9. Night Trains

**Sorry for the delay, heres the ninth chapter. This is a very definative chapter in the story, and some important stuff happens. **

**Enjoy!**

* * *

><p>Mordecai walked with Margaret along the hedgerow. The sun was just about to set, and the sky was filled with clouds that could be described as nothing short of ethereal. The towering, benign-looking thunderheads glowed a bright fiery red in the light of the setting sun, and contrasted beautifully with the deep indigo and lavender hues of the sky. A crescent moon had risen.<p>

"I sure hope Benson will be alright." Margaret sighed, concernedly, as she scaled a tiny creek.

"You know, I do too." Mordecai replied. "It's amazing how different you realize a place will be without someone only after they are in danger of not being there."

They trudged on as the light waned away.

Mordecai was taking Alex's advice, he was taken Margaret to the railroad tracks to simply watch the trains go by, and maybe the stars, if the clouds went away. It seemed like a romantic enough idea. He had brought a backpack, in which was an old checkered picnic blanket for them to lie on.

Margaret didn't ask where Mordecai was taking her, she knew it was somewhere special.

Out into the field and along the railroad tracks they went, both practicing on balancing on one rail without falling off.

"There's a good spot." He pointed out into the field at a spot he had picked completely at random.

The sky began to grow dark quickly, the sun sinking below the unseen horizon behind the black silhouettes of the trees. The two avians set down the picnic blanket, unfolded it, and sat down.

"Mordecai?"

"Yeah?"

"Can you rub my neck and shoulders like you did when we got tossed out of the theatre? It felt really good and im all stiff today."

"Sure." Mordecai smiled, moving behind her. He lifted her up and plopped her in his lap, she was very light, and he stated his observation, resulting in laughter.

"I love these little dates of ours." She sighed as he massaged out her taught muscles.

"I only wish we could have some real adventures." Mordecai replied turning his gaze to the sky. He had hardly left the town since his parents had taken him with them on trips long ago, and when that stopped, he could never afford it.

"I know exactly what you mean." Margaret pondered, leaning her head into his.

"I've always dreamed of getting out of here, seeing far away places, living somewhere beautiful, somewhere that isn't here. My mom says I should stick to tradition and stay where I was born, but she's a hypocrite, that's not what she did. I love travel, and ironically I've never gotten to travel much of anywhere."

Mordecai knew exactly what she was feeling, it welled up inside him, long dormant. It was the urge to see what lay beyond the horizon. As if in reply from Tantalus himself, the headlights of a train emerged from the treeline along the far side of the field. A sleek, silvery, streamlined-front diesel locomotive whined down the tracks, its headlight and gyralight making visible whirling beams of light which cut the evening air. Behind it was a string of passenger cars, spewing a welcoming golden light from their large windows, people silhouetted inside, talking, eating, making merriment, sharing glasses of nondescript champagnes and wines.

"God I wish I was on that train." Margaret whispered as it passed, becoming a string of twinkling lights with two red eyes at it's receding end in the night.

"Me too." Mordecai replied. "Alex was talking about them too me this morning, he has some pretty strong ties with them."

"Ties?"

"Yeah, he told me all about how his start came from trains and railroads and what have you. He told me a lot of really profound things I never thought of, just imagine, two lines of steel that, if you followed long enough, could take you across the whole country. You can go anywhere as soon as you step on a train."

"If you've got a ticket, and a place to go." Margaret said, disenchanted.

"Alex told me something else, it's got to be the going, and not the getting there that's good."

Margaret tilted her head in thought to this, and they both remained silent for a long time. Mordecai kept massaging Margaret's neck, and it was beginning to put her to sleep. Another train stealthily rumbled across the field, a freight train with almost no lights save a headlight and two green lamps, and a loud roaring of several engines. It took several minutes to pass, the wheels sparking on the rails from time to time. The even beat of the gigantic traincars over the rail joints was soothing, hypnotic.

Mordecai rested his head on Margaret's shoulder and leaned forward slightly to balance himself, he felt himself drifting off into the land of dreams which he seldom saw anymore. He again felt a profound sense of longing for his childhood, when dreams came easier, and when there wasn't so much hatred and confusion.

A whistle cut through the night. Mordecai had heard enough of them recently to recognize it as a steam whistle, but it wasn't a high pitched or shrill whistle in any way, nor was it's sound short and prudent like that he had heard from Alex's pull on the rope. This whistle was deep, haunting, melancholy. It roared and wailed long and loud, lonesome and far away in the night, like the whistle of a train in the old black and white drama films he had been forced to watch in history class.

"Did you hear that?" he asked Margaret.

"Yeah." She replied, coming fully awake.

They sat and listened for a long time, and it sounded again, much closer.

They saw the signal lights at the far edge of the treeline of the field tick on, two glaring red eyes in the night, one of which then turned green.

The rails were making odd, metallic chirping noises, and the ground beneath them trembled ever so slightly.

"This is weird..." Margaret said with a tone of apprehension in her voice, turning to look at Mordecai.

Mordecai, for a reason neither of them could fathom, got up.

"It's probably Alex." He said, flooded with curiosity. He trudged up near the railroad tracks, which seemed to be shaking the entire ground. It was not a violent tremor, but a low rumble, calming instead of threatening. Margaret hesitatingly followed.

"It cant be Alex, he's still at the workshop!"

Just then, through the trees came a shining light. It shimmered through their branches until it emerged, and it's beam lit up the entire field in a wide, golden spread. Mordecai had never seen a light so intense, it hurt his eyes until they became used to it, but not once did he look away. The light was surrounded by others, green and red, and a flickering orange light above all these, which resembled fire. Chugging could be heard, loud and deep. Mordecai knew what it was, but he had never seen one this large or this powerful. It was ten times bigger than the battered old machine he had seen on the back of the flatbed truck.

The tremendous, fiery monster of a steam locomotive clattered up, wreathed in white mist, crowned in fire erupting from it's three inline smokestacks. It's powerful noises slackened off as it drew near to him, and as it set upon him in all it's towering height, glory, life and animation, he fell under a sort of spell. The radiant heat from the immense boiler cancelled the cool night air. The plow and coupling shot by, as did the powerful headlight. The spell was suddenly broken by the intense, ear-shattering metallic screech of brakes. The gigantic grimy discs of the wheels and blur of motion which were the many complex rods and linkages flew by him, billions of sparks erupting from the rims of the wheels where the brakeshoes applied. He covered his ears as the monster slowed, orange flames from the firebox licked out of the ashpan at him, coming from deep inside the heart of the machine.

The engine cab spewed golden light from its windows, towering high above his head. The locomotive kept rolling for a good many yards before coming to a stop. All was silent, all was still, save the rhythmic, slow heartbeat of the locomotive's airpump.

"Mord-Mordecai?" A familiar voice, certainly not that of Alex, but no less familiar, asked in complete surprise. "Is dat Mordecai down there?"

Mordecai froze in shock. It simply couldn't be.

"Mordecai?" it asked again. "You remember me don't you?"

Mordecai walked slowly alongside the locomotive until he was under the cab. He looked up into the beautiful, warm light of the windows. The blackened face of an already black man leaned out, eyes shimmering from the light of the fire below the cab.

"Mister Ward?" He asked, cautiously. "Demond Ward?"

"Yeah it's me, Com'ere you!"

Mordecai fought back tears as he climbed up the long ladder, and upon reaching the top, was promptly and viciously noogied by his former fourth-grade teacher.

"Yeah you remember now?" Demond asked, laughing. "You remember those days? Huh?"

Mordecai laughed and laughed. "I cant believe it, how are you here? What are you doing in this thing?"

"Boyyy have I got stories to tell you, I saw you in that there head-light, and I say to meself, wah, I'd know that blue spike anywhere, I gotta see my favorite student again!"

Margaret came running up.

"Oh my god, Mordecai is that mister Ward?"

"You tell me!" Demond chuckled, opening up a toolbox on the floor of the locomotive cab and pulling out an old football. "I kept this all this time as a good memory, time to share it again, go long Mordie!"

Mordecai flung himself off the engine ladder and sailed over Margaret's head. It all came back to him as if he had done it no more than a day ago. Mordecai sprinted down the embankment and out into the field, and stopped, turning around with his hands open. There stood the steam locomotive, wreathed in white vapor, warm and breathing, just as alive as two loved ones standing near and on it.

"Catch!" he heard. The old football flew up into the night air, Mordecai tracked it, skittered backwards and sideways, and caught it.

"Got it!" He shouted, just like he had all those years ago.

"What are you doing here, how did you get here?" Mordecai asked, stepping up to the engine and back into the square of light coming from the cab windows.

"You two get your tail feathers up here and I can tell you all about it!"

Both avians climbed into the cab, laughing.

They stepped out of the night air and into a cozy, welcoming place. The cab was about as big as a good-sized bathroom. The tender of the locomotive served as it's backwall. On the walls hung operational papers and schedules, and several watches. Lanterns hung from the low ceiling, filling the cab with soft, golden light. The front wall was comprised mostly of the back of the immense boiler, simply _coated_ with valvehandles, levers, piping, gauges and all manner of instrumentation. A bright, intense fire could be seen through a small slot between two gigantic doors that were shut firmly. Demond adjusted a few valves and tunred back to his rediscovered young friends. He was an old African-American man, with a broad smile on his face and two indescribably kind eyes. His face was wrinkled with age and past laughter, and his hair was graying on the sides. He stood very tall and wore sooty, but well kept engineer's clothing.

"Come here you two, it's been too long." He said.

They both hugged him, one in each of his burly arms.

"Boyyyy it has been too long."

"Ever since you got fired it was never the same, that was when school got awful for me." Mordecai said.

"Yeah, why did you get fired?" Margaret asked. "Nobody would ever tell me, and you were always my favorite teacher!"

"Aww yeah, I remember how you used to look at eachother in the back of the class, two sweethearts in the making if ever I saw them. Looks like you two have hooked up?" Demond chuckled, sitting down on his gigantic toolbox. Margaret blushed. "Anyway, Mordie here will tell you why I had to go away."

"Margaret, remember how those kids used to pick on me all the time?"

"Yeah, I hated seeing that, I did my best to stick up for you."

"I know. Remember that one kid Leighton though, the one who killed the class hamster?"

Margaret shuddered at the memory.

"He was horrid, he was absolutely horrid."

"Dat he was." Demond agreed with the Robin.

"Well one day at recess, he got in front of me with a big knife and started bragging about how he stole it from his father's desk." The bluejay continued. "He had his screwed up little friends push me down and hold me on the ground, and I swear he would have cut my throat out...but then..."

"And then – I had seen the whole thing, and I wasn't gonna let Mordie get hurt, so I went on over and took that little rotted-egg up by his collar and punched him right in the face, and boy did dat knife go flyin." Demond finished for him, grinning. "I know he was only ten, but d'ere was something real not right about that boy, and I know he'd have hurt my friend here without remorse. A good teacher don't let dat happen."

"But the schoolboard apparently thought a good teacher does nothing in that situation." Mordecai related. "Leighton's parents brought it to the schoolboard the very next day, saying their precious little boy had been mentally scarred, having been punched by a teacher, and they fired mister Ward the day after that. I'd have told you earlier Margaret, but I only found out the next year, and by then you had transferred so many classes, I never saw you anymore."

"Yeah, and then I transferred schools." Margaret continued, sadly. "I missed you, I missed you both."

"And I missed you two, you was the sweetest kids I coulda ever asked for." Demond smiled at them. "Marg'et, you shoulda seen the football games me and Mordie here would play, sometimes itd be just us, and sometimes itd be a whole buncha his friends like Riggs, Riggs came into our class just before I got the boot. How's he doin by the way, you still see him?"

"Oh yeah." Mordecai said. "He's my best friend."

"Good to know some stuff stays da same." Demond replied matter-of-factly. "But god the times we had, I remember hed stay after school and ask me to teach him more stuff, Mordie you were such a good kid."

"But I don't get it, how did you end up here?" the bluejay asked.

"Dat's the interestin' part." Demond replied. "See after I got da big old boot, I couldn't find a steady job. I got things I was no good at that I got fired from, and I got things that I couldn't stand that I quit from. It was awful. After me wife died and the kids moved away, I thought that was done and it. Now see, one day, not too long ago actually, the boiler down in me basement decides to crap out, and I call me a boiler-guy. Now dis guy shows up at my door, and he cant be more than seventeen years old. Well I was right skeptical at first, but he went down and fixed that old thing in half an hour flat, and he's got it goin better than ever before. I ask him to stay awhile and we get to talking, I ask him how a young fella such as himself gets a job in heating, and he tells me he works as a steam engineer in a far off town doing contracting work. He tells me about the job and work he does, and how its good for anyone mechanically inclined. Well I think to myself, I think back to my days in da pawn-shop fixin' up them VCR's, and I say to myself I can do dat real easy. We keep in touch, and dat young fellow, Alex is his name, teaches me how to run steam engines, and just around dat time he finished buildin' up this locomotive here." At this, Demond tapped the steel plate of the cab floor with his fist. "He teaches me how to drive her, fixes her up with all dat modern safety equipment she's gotta have to run the railroads today, and gets me a job with da local railroad company, da management of which he's apparently good buddies with, and manages to get dis ol' steamer on their roster for me to run."

Mordecai and Margaret stared, wide eyed.

"Smaaalll wooorllldd." They both sighed, and related the story over the past several days.

"Haaaa, what would you know about dat now!" Demond laughed and laughed. "I just don't believe dat."

"Mister Ward, take us somewhere, take us anywhere." Mordecai said, fervently. "We want to go somewhere else, somewhere we've never seen before."

"Well den if nobody objects, ill take you as far as I'm goin tonight." He smiled. "And call me Demond, I aint your teacher no more."

"Mister Ward, you'll always be my teacher."

"Daww shucks. Well, we better get goin, dispatch will probably see me standin' all still like on his little track indicator."

Demond released the main airbrakes and adjusted a few controls, and with a pull of the throttle, the locomotive began to roll, taking powerful cylinder strokes.

"See dis here is a four-ten-four dat Alex design his-self, and built with his co-workers. Three-cylinder compound, and he made it so I can run it without a fireman. Dat there is a ahead-signal and speed limit indicator." He pointed to a small box with a miniature facsimile of a railroad signal behind glass, glowing at them. "Dat there is my waterfeeds, he moved all them controls over to the drivers side, and I got a full mechanical stoker under dem floorboards, which I can spin and modulate wit' dese valves here."

Demond threw open the big doors to reveal a roaring fire, in the flames of which could be seen a rotating archemedian-screw, shoveling in the coal from the tender.

"She also got feedheating, and triple Lempor exhausts and Trofimoff valves and whatnot. She's real efficient, one way Alex won dem management people over was that dis engine, on trials, was better then dere entire modern engine fleet. I been drivin' her almost a year now, and it's wonderful, I love every day. Still, I miss dem old days bein a school teacher."

The locomotive seethed and surged around them, picking up speed.

"So, want to know where we're headed?" He asked.

"Surprise us." Mordecai said, sitting down on a foldout stool on the other side of the locomotive cab with Margaret, and hugging her close. The two birds looked out the window at the night. Trees rushed by, and little flitting lights of buildings, which soon vanished as they were whisked away from the stagnant little town, and into the beautiful unknown, the undiscovered country.

* * *

><p>The train moved through the night. The powerful locomotive rushed down the line at over ninety miles per hour, riding as smoothly as a leaf adrift in the cool waters of a stream, and yet surging forwards and onwards with thousands of horsepower. Mordecai had seldom ever traveled this fast in his life, it beat the short freeway trips he had taken. The landscape flew by in a blur of black earth and deep blue sky. Margaret gasped and whispered a little something about every light she saw. Far off upon hills they saw the little groups of lights of towns, windows, neon signs and traffic lights. Every so often, a signal would flash by in a streak of color. Far off over the horizon, the eerie slow blink of red, vertically oriented lines of lights of tall radio towers flashed on and off. In the sky, millions of stars, sometimes joined by a moving star of strobing reds, whites and greens, an airplane or helicopter plying the night skies.<p>

Now and then the hum of the rail would change to an echoeing clatter as the locomotive flew over the iron girders of an old bridge, sometimes over shimmering moonlit water, and sometimes over a road with a few cars passing underneath.

Every so often, Demond would pull a rope above his head, letting fly a lonely blast on the whistle of the locomotive into the night, as if asking for a reply.

A railroad crossing would pass in uneven intervals of time in a whir of flashing red lights and the Doppler effect of a bell.

Mordecai rested his head with Margaret's on the sill of the cab window and watched it all roll by, the more they saw, the wider they smiled, and the dreamier their expressions became. Their eyes were filled with the stars above and the lights which twinkled on the horizon.

"Mordecai, the whole world, it's so beautiful, I never knew this crazy world could be so beautiful." Margaret said to him softly, her voice quivering. "Maybe we were wrong to judge it so early. Maybe it is like all those old storybooks tell us."

"We've only seen the smallest rotten little piece of it." Mordecai said to her, looking back out at the night time splendor as it flew past. "It is so beautiful, I could watch it forever."

Margaret turned and kissed him on the cheek.

"I love you." She cooed.

The three of them sat securely up in the cab of the behemoth which flew through the night.

* * *

><p>The train had climbed onto a high bridge, crossing a wide valley in the land, the sides of which were lined with the glowing windows of houses. Mordecai and Margaret were amazed at what they saw approaching. A city, bigger than most cities they had ever even seen photographs of, sat on the edge of the waters of a gigantic canal. The skyline shimmered with trillions of lights, red, gold, green and blue. Warning lights on tall stacks and high buildings, billions upon billions of windows on the sides of elegant glass and brick sided high-rises, bridges, factories, foundries, and immense ships.<p>

As they passed over the multitudinous docksides and cement retaining walls of the wide canal, Demond gave a long whistle. A gigantic oil tanker docked below responded, sounding her own steam whistle, ten times as deep and booming, echoeing around the landscape. Similar ships from close ports and far off lands, gargantuan and miniscule, filled the canal, safe in port after long journeys, and arriving and departing with the help of industrious little tugboats. Workmen the size of ants bustled about on the docks below, helping unload and load cargo and chemicals, helping to make the world turn beneath their feet. Industries climbed into the sky with countless tanks, chimneys, stacks, pipes, towers and other intricate constructions covered in glaring spotlights and flashing warning lights.

Over the canal the train carried itself, and then onto a girder bridge above busy city streets.

"I've always wanted to see a huge city like this!" Margaret gasped into the wind out the window.

"What city is this mister Ward?" Mordecai asked.

"Aww, just some big old town on the edge of here and a little bit more towards there." Demond smiled, obviously knowing the answer. "Wherever it is, looks like a helluva town!"

Mordecai liked it that he didn't not tell him the name, the Mystery fit with the atmosphere of the trip so far, and made it fun and exhilarating.

Demond began to slow the train, cutting the throttle and applying the train brakes.

"Now look Mordie, I'm a freight so Im due into the yard in a few minutes, im not supposed to stop before then but ill slow down to a walking pace when we go through the big passenger station so you's two can get off. Go and have a wonderful time for yourselves, this is a great place for two lovebirds like you to have a night on the town."

"Mister Ward, thanks for everything." Mordecai beamed. Margaret went up and hugged Demond, followed by Mordecai.

"Don't worry about it." He replied, a grin spreading across his face. "Now, around one o'clock, youll find a train waiting on da same track as Im gonna drop you off on, track five. Ill heads-up da driver, he's a friend of mine, so he'll know he's got a couple passengers to take with him. He aint runnin down your line, but it runs next to your town and it'll get you within a few miles of home, you can walk it back or hitchhike. Remember to be back here before One."

Mordecai gathered up his backpack.

Up came the gigantic glass arched roof of the train terminal, glowing on the inside with hundreds of lights.

The steam locomotive trundled in slowly, Demond slowing its pace further until it crawled along the platform. Mordecai and Margaret looked up into the gigantic glass and iron sky.

"Off you go then." Demond said, encouragingly.

"Thanks again!" Margaret laughed.

Mordecai felt a tug on his backpack, and heard a zipper close.

"You treat her well, you give her the night of her life." Demond smiled at Mordecai.

Mordecai nodded, stepping off the slowly moving train, and onto the bustling station platform. Margaret ran up to him and hugged him, and the steam locomotive disappeared into the station, Demond waving to them.

"Oh, this is going to be so great!" Margaret chirped, looking all around her at the busy station.

Mordecai was curious as to what Demond had opened his bag for.

He took it off his shoulders and unzipped the main pocket. All that was in it was a broken pencil. He unzipped the front pocket, and threw a silent tantrum.

Four crisp one-hundred dollar bills leered up at him from the folds of the backpack. Mister Franklin seemed to laugh and laugh at him four times over.

"Hey Margaret, you know how you told me you like clothes shopping?" Mordecai stammered, hiding the four hundreds.

"Yeah?"

"Well, what was the name of that store you told me you loved but was always too expensive for you? I'm sure there's one around."

* * *

><p>Down the streets the couple wandered. The city bustled with the fervent life of the night, just as all the glamorous city-scenes in all the films and books they had seen said, and moreso. Tired and partied-out individuals staggered home from the many bars, early birds strolled down the street importantly and got into their polished automobiles, taxis rattled and subway trains rumbled underneath their feet. Elderly with late-night inclinations sat around on benches, talking about the previous day with eachother, feeding the straggling nightbirds and disgruntedly throwing away stray pieces of trash, while complaining of the younger generation and its lack of respect or responsibility, and other words that began with "R". Businessmen walked importantly, sometimes alone with super-powered cellular phones pressed to the side of their heads, and sometimes in small cliques, in heated discussions about which stocks to sell and buy, which forms to fill out, financial allocations being wise or unwise, how this or that poor son-of-a-bitch got screwed on the back end of a sour deal, and what printer cartridges to buy. The homeless begged for cash pitifully, and the prostitutes begged for more cash pathetically. Lovers openly expressed their affection for eachother, sometimes in extraneous ways warranting a more private indoor space, and every so often warranting a bed, and blissfully oblivious to passers by. Police officers calmly walked their beats, some whistling and swinging their cudgels to pass the time, greeting the citizens as they passed, ensuring nothing was awry. The night air was warm and sweet, flavored with the aromas and scents of the many eateries and restaurants which vented their exhaust gasses into the atmosphere.<p>

Margaret and Mordecai came to an imposing storefront, over which was bodly displayed in blue neon letters: "_**Lancinating Guise**_", which everyone said was a cheap knockoff of "_Sharper Image_" but was actually far superior.

"Oh, I knew one of these would be around here somewhere!" Margaret chirped. "And they're open round the clock too!"

Mordecai stared, mortified, at one of the window displays.

"This is a _clothing store?_" He asked.

Margaret pulled him in the front door.

Mordecai always felt uneasy in these kind of places, he was put off by the exceedingly effeminate clothing, insecurity plagued him, he did not want to be seen or recognized in one of these stores. Still, he was here to make Margaret happy, which put everything in the back seat. He casually looked at a pair of shoes and then gawked at the price tag of three hundred dollars. He couldn't help but look at some of the – well he would call them _costumes_ – which lined the walls and displays. There were dresses which twisted around the body in all manner of odd ways and seemed to defy the laws of physics. He could not fathom how any of these things were meant to stay on. Some of them looked like they would fall off with a single step, some looked as if they hurt the wearer enormously, some looked like they could cause injury being put on and taken off, some looked as if they shouldn't be legal out of doors.

He found himself laughing quite suddenly and uproariously at a purple tuxedo, and he was unable to stop himself, luckily there were no staff or customers around.

"Wonder if they've got a spinning bowtie to go with that." He chuckled.

"Yes, we do." Said an angry voice from below him.

Mordecai looked down to see a portly little man in a distinguished suit, standing about eighteen inches high, with a measuring tape in his hand.

"A-ah." Mordecai stuttered, taken quite aback. "That's...just – really great!"

The midget, obviously having found the use of his legs quite uneconomical long ago, threw himself on his side and rolled away down the aisle with several loathsome remarks uttered under his breath.

Mordecai stuffed his face in a rack of clothing to try to avoid the intense laughter which welled up inside him.

"Mordecai!" Margaret called to him, from down the aisle. "I wanna try this on, I'll never afford it in a million years but lets have some fun!"

Mordecai nodded and stepped over.

Margaret had a piece of cloth all wrapped in plastic hanging from a hangar.

"What is it?" he asked.

"Youll find out."

Mordecai sat outside the fitting room, tapping his foot. Margaret had been inside a long time, and sometimes they had started an awkward conversation through the door.

The doorknob turned and Margaret stuck her head out.

"Whatever you do, don't laugh." She said, smiling in a self-conscious way that Mordecai had never seen from her before.

She stepped out the room. Hard Mordecai been holding anything, he would have dropped it, and had he had anything in his mouth he would have spat it out. Luckily he had neither, and such had no way to declare his amazement.

Margaret stood in a stunning, quite unique dress. It was a deep indigo color with a lavender sash. The dress bottom was angled in a sharp cut and was rather short, and the top only went over her shoulder on one side, draping down under her other arm on the opposite side. On it's midriff were scrolled several intricate white designs in stitched lines.

"You look – absolutely...just...you look..." Mordecai frantically searched for a word that could describe her accurately, and one he had not used before. "You look resplendent, perfect...dammit what am I saying, you look just..._sexy_!" He jabbered.

She went up and hugged him, the softness of the dress accented the softness of the wonderful person inside it.

"Well im sold, your getting that dress." He said.

"Don't be silly, I haven't got the money!"

Mordecai pulled her towards the counter, and she went along with it.

"We'd like to make a purchase, anyone here?" Mordecai asked, ringing a bell.

"What!" said a familiar, frustrated voice.

The top of a short ladder could be seen shuffling down the counter on the other side, and up came the midget man, scowling from ear to ear.

"Please help my sweetheart fit that dress, I'm going to buy it for her."

Margaret blushed. "Mordecai, there's no way you can..."

"Don't be daft, that's two hundred and fifty eight dollars, you don't have that kind of money." The midget cut Margaret off, laughing with fiendish glee.

"Mister Benjamin Franklin would like to argue that point!" Mordecai retorted angrily, quickly withdrawing the four hundred dollar bills from his bag.

Margaret gasped, and the Midget's face distorted horribly.

"You got a problem with my friend here, library-stool?" The face of Benjamin Franklin on one of the bills asked, furiously. "Don't you make me call my friends!"

The three other hundreds agreed with their close relative, and several angry shouts were then heard from inside the gigantic cash register.

"That wont be necessary, the fitting room is right this way!"

Margaret stared at Mordecai as she was lead away by the small man.

* * *

><p>After a long time spent fiddling and foddering in the fittingroom, Margaret re-emerged in her newly bought dress, which seemed to fit more snugly now, her countenance shimmering.<p>

"Damn thing hardly needed to be altered." Said the little man, petulantly as if this was a bad thing. "It fit her almost perfectly right off the bat."

"Mordecai – this means...I cant thank you...come here!" Margaret cried, glassy eyed.

They drew together in a tight embrace.

"Where did you get all that money?" She asked into his neck, bewildered. "You shouldn't have done this!"

"Oh, somewhere." Mordecai replied. "I just wanted the most beautiful girl in the world to have something equally beautiful to wear."

Margaret made little noises of approval.

"I've still got a hundred and fifty left, and I bet you're hungry." Mordecai said.

"Oh Mordecai, I am, but don't..."

"Ahh, this is money that was meant to be well spent, and I say this is something worth spending it on, I'm gonna treat you to the best dinner you've ever had." He smiled at her. "Hey guy, you know of any good resturants? He asked the midget man.

The little man suddenly attained black rings around his eyes, hissed, and rolled away down the aisle, crashing into a display and overturning it.

"Okay, then we'll go find one!"

"Seeya later Mordecai!" One of the Franklins lying on the counter cheerfully bade him farewell.

"See you Frank!" Mordecai waved, his arm around Margaret, who just giggled and giggled.

* * *

><p>The two strode down the brightly lit street. Old lampposts lined the cobblestone street, they had entered into a more historic district of the city. Irish pubs clattered, Chinese resturants greeted them with their fiery red lanterns and incessant plucked music, Bars roared with laughter, pianomusic, and the occasional fight.<p>

"Ohh that place looks nice." Margaret exclaimed, looking over to an old restaurant in an even older crumbled, brick-faced building, with two gaslights burning fiercely outside.

She inhaled deeply. "It smells good too."

"Then it is there we shall eat!" Mordecai laughed, leading her in.

The door stood inset far into an archway, a third gaslamp burning above, lighting up a dingy old sign; "The Red Barquentine" it read, with a picture of a clipper ship under full canvas.

The two entered in to a dimly lit, cozy space full of richly upholstered chairs and booths, and large tables. Candles burned on each one, and above their heads, big brass and copper ship's lanterns burned and filled the room with warm light. Along the walls were pictures and models of ships through the many eras of all the seafaring nations. Only a few people sat around, it was quiet. Two old men sat in the corner, playing a melancholy duet on a guitar and a concertina.

"What a beautiful place!" Margaret said, looking around. Mordecai agreed.

"May I seat the couple?" A snow-white haired old woman asked.

"Yes, can we get a booth?"

"Of course you can, pick out which one you want!"

The avians did so, and they sat down on the deep, comfortable tacked-velvet seats.

"Good luck ever getting me out of this seat!" Mordecai laughed.

A middle-aged woman with a kind, Brazilian face and accent approached.

"You guys ready to order or should I start you off with drinks?"

"Cranberry juice for me." They both asked, laughing as their speech overlapped.

"Comin' right up!" the waitress replied, handing them a wine-list.

When she returned, Mordecai and Margaret ordered such a myriad of meals originating from the far corners of the world as to make grounds to give each of the kitchen staff a salary raise. After the appetizer, they realized just how hungry they were.

In came a margarita pizza covered in mozerella and powdered parmesan, a pastabowl full of peppers and tomato sauce, smoked salmon fish and striped bass, a plate of steamed broccoli flooded in lemon juice, an eggplant cut into neat slices covered with basil leaves. A thick oyster soup came next, followed by seasoned fries and a hammered down baguette made into a sandwich with multitudes of different cheeses. For desert, a rich-beyond-comprehension slice of chocolate cake, which could give a person cavities just by looking at it.

Mordecai sat back and closed his eyes, the last time his stomach had been this full was on a wonderful outing he had had with his school baseball team many, many years ago.

Margaret looked tired and satisfied, the table covered in empties plates and strewn about with silverware.

"That was the best dinner I've ever had." Margaret laughed, deep contentment in her voice.

"Yeah, we wont be able to beat that one I don't think." Mordecai agreed.

They asked for the check, and left the restaurant thanking the waitress and host profusely, and telling the two old men who had played tirelessly and quietly all throughout the dinner that their music was wonderful, haunting and lovely and they hoped to hear it again soon.

Going out into the fresh night air, Margaret shivered slightly, the dress not being made for warmth.

"Should have bought you a coat too." Mordecai said, sheepishly. "I spent the last of our money in that restaurant."

"Mordecai, if you did any more for me tonight, I think I'd burst." Margaret said sweetly, pressing against him as they walked down the street.

A clock tower looming over the rooftops of the streetside buildings read twelve-thirty in the morning on its big masonry faces with its gigantic iron hands.

"Let's see if we can find our way back to the station in time." Mordecai said, and they quickened their pace.

* * *

><p>The gigantic glass-roofed station towered up into the air above the city buildings, filling the sky with golden light from inside it's iron skeleton.<p>

Mordecai and Margaret ran onto the slightly less crowded promenade, looking over all the platforms. Trains of all kinds and all different liveries stood, having arrived from all the different railroads which converged here. Sleek and modern streamliners stood next to grimy old commuter service diesels, and a few simply antique electric multiple units buzzed, clattered and whirred here and there. The gigantic electromechanically actuated split-flap arrival and departure boards which hung from the glass ceiling ticked and whirred furiously, white letters and numbers on their black faces changing rapidly.

"Track five, that's us." Mordecai pointed, and the two began the trek over.

In the sunken track stood an old electric train from the golden age of railroading.

Old square-fronted cars, each sporting their own electric motors, painted in Pullman green, stood in a train eight cars long. The windows along their sides were big and square, and their iron plated sides showed their rivets. Atop the cars, gigantic coat-hangar-like assemblages of pantographs towered up to the high voltage wires which hung over the tracks. The ends of the cars bore two round owl-eye like windows and a big chained door in the center, above which was a gigantic searchlight-like headlight and colorful markerlights. Red keystones were painted on the doors.

Mordecai and Margaret wandered along up to the front car. The bluejay hesitantly approached the open front door.

The vestibule in the front of the car was open on both sides with doors, and formed the driving cab, with a complex set of controls on the right side. In back of the vestibule, a center door lead through a thick partition and into the passenger compartment. A man was busying himself in this cab, checking over the controls, and filling out a checklist on a clipboard on the wall. He had a harsh face, white hair and wore a baseball cap with the number of a navy ship on it.

Mordecai just watched him for awhile.

The man turned several times and glanced at him, and the fourth time, he asked in a hoarse and raspy voice, with a slightly annoyed tone, "Yeah? Can I help you?"

"Yes sir uhh, do you by any chance know a Demond Ward?"

The man's facial expression softened somewhat, through the hard wrinkled skin.

"Yeah I know Demond, real great guy." He replied. "You must be those friends of his he told me about that needed a ride, c'mon up."

Margaret and Mordecai stepped up into the cab.

"Don't worry about the doors, Ill shut them before we get going. It gets pretty cozy in here, just a bit noisy. These are awfully old cars. Well, make yourselves comfortable, my cab is your cab, im glad you made it on time. Do me a favor and keep it low just in case a station official comes up, you bein' in here breaks a few rules."

Mordecai nodded.

"Flint's the name." The man said, shaking Mordecai's hand. "Flint Westwood."

"Good to meet you!" Margaret said. "Thanks for having us."

"That's a pretty nice dress you got there girly, make that last awhile, looks real good on you." Flint remarked with a hard smile. "If you don't mind me saying of course."

"Naww no problem." Mordecai replied. "Its damn true."

Margaret smiled.

"Alright, we'll be off in a minute, let's shut the doors, could you get that one over there?" Flint asked, slamming the drivers side door shut.

Mordecai walked over inside the small vestibule and slammed the other door shut, as well as that of the passenger compartment.

The cab abruptly became dimmer and quieter, the noise of the station outside now hushed and muffled through the thick steel walls, and the round windows now being the only inlet of light. Flint ticked on a small electric lightbulb.

"Mind if I smoke?" He asked.

"Not at all, live and let live is what I say." Mordecai replied, putting a hand up.

"I like people who think that way." Flint said. "What did you say your name was?"

"Mordecai."

"Odd name, I like that name, not used enough." Flint nodded in approval, lighting up a gigantic cigar. "And yours?"

"Margaret."

"Ah, pretty name for a pretty girl." He nodded again. "Well, looks like its time for us to bug out of here."

A radio on the wall crackled to life.

"Yeah train A-twenty-eight come back to dispatch, I just got your switches aligned, you can get on out whenever youre ready." It said.

"Thanks Marco." Flint replied into the old microphone.

With that, he released the airbrake with a loud hiss, and flipped a switch. The loud noise of a compressor firing up underneath their feet shook the floor.

"Good evening passengers, welcome aboard the red-eye train, we will be stopping in the usual places, Beecher Falls, Bryanton, Split Rock, Bankstoke airport, Orwell, and Backtucket." Flint said into a microphone. He then grasped a long lever which came out of a control stand on the front wall, and ticked it over a few notches.

The big traincars hummed and whirred to life, an electric whine coming from all around them. the train accelerated smoothly out of the station and out into the night, over several sets of switches and past glaring green signal lights, which silently changed to red as they passed. The tracks divided again and again, until they climbed up above the yard on a low bridge, the shining lines of the rails reflecting the city lights. Every so often, a bright spark from the pantograph would illuminate the dark creosoted trackbed in a searing electric blue light for a fraction of a second.

Flint threw another switch, and the gigantic headlight above the center door flashed on, shining a steady beam of gold ahead of the train.

"That's better." He said, pulling up a stool and sitting down on it. The city lights outside the windows flashed in and around the dark cab, making odd orange shapes on the walls which flitted about and vanished as fast as they appeared. He switched off the lightbulb on the ceiling.

"Sorry, but I gotta shut that off, it ruins my night vision, gotta be able to see whats in front of me."

"Think nothing of it." Margaret said.

It reminded the two avians of car trips on the highway at night, the way the light played about the inside of the dark cab. Flint had turned on an electric heater, and a welcome warmth was spreading about the small vestibule. It was much smaller than the cab of the steam locomotive, and much darker, but it was just as comforting. There being nowhere to sit, Mordecai and Margaret leaned up against the front wall of the cab with their legs stretched out to the other side. The noise of the train filled the small space, but was not abrasive or painful to their ears. The loud electromechanical whine combined with the steady rumble of the wheels, and the rhythmic clacking of the joints in the rail as the train rolled over them was quite soothing, as was the slow, gentle rocking motion the traincar had attained as it sped up.

"Yeah these are real museum pieces." Flint said endearingly. "These are old MP-fifty-four type electric multiple cars that are originally from the Pennsylvania Railroad. The railroad bought eighteen of them last year, three sets worth, even the baggage cars, and refurbished them to working order, and changed their voltage to match what we got on the overheads here. They painted them in this nice old Pullman green, and kept the Pennsy keystones on the doors to keep the railroad-buffs like me happy. I couldn't ask for a better electric to engineer, they are sturdy and fast."

"Its good that they save old things." Mordecai replied. "Tell me, did you serve on a ship?"

"Ahh yes you're _observant!_" Flint replied, tilting his cap. "I like that too, you're on the way to convincing me that you got a good head on your shoulders Mordecai." He laughed.

Mordecai chuckled too, he liked the jagged-edged sense of humor Flint had, it seemed to cover up something softer.

"Yeah I served as a gunnery man on a destroyer, a long time ago it seems now." Flint related, looking out the circular window and deep into the night. "That's what ruined my ears, and my voice, all that shouting. I've done a bunch of things though, I was a pilot for awhile, flying big transport planes, C-one-nineteen's and what have you. I was an airliner pilot until they grounded me because of my bad ear. Then I worked at a fireworks factory until it shut down, then I got on a bridge-repair crew and worked on the bridges like the one we are traveling on right now. I finally decided I needed something a bit less strenuous, so I got me a job as an engineer, and I've been doing it for ten years since. I love it, I'm gonna stick with this job until I retire or I die. Got a nice pension too."

"That's a rich life." Mordecai smiled.

"Damn right it was – is." Flint corrected himself. "Cant ask for better, I got a nice wife, a couple of good kids who made lives for themselves, it is a rich life. Anyway, now I believe I'm takin you two to a station that's a few miles away from your town." Flint gestured in the air with his hands, fluently. "Now see, the line you came in from with Demond is here." He drew a line. "The line we are coming back on goes like this." He drew another line in a "Y" shape relation to the first one. "See this line passes your town a few miles to the side, so ill drop you at a station or in a field if you like when we get real close."

"Thank you Flint, but we are both so tired we don't think we can make the journey tonight, is there anywhere you think we could stay for the night near that area?" Mordecai asked, looking questioningly at Margaret, who nodded.

"Yeah theres a couple of cheap motels near the station." Flint replied. "Shouldn't be more than thirty or forty bucks for a night if they've got a vacancy."

"Ahh, see we...don't exactly have any money left."

"Ahahaha, I get it, you mean places that are more or less free." Flint laughed. "I can hardly in good conscious suggest a dumpster, especially with a dress like that. Mordecai, Margaret, I think I might have just the answer for you. You see, an engineer, or at least a good one, makes several things his own responsibility, even though it is generally not asked for as part of the job. One thing I make it my responsibility to know, is the line I travel on, and to know it intimately. I have run this line for ten years, like I said, day after day. Now, in the seventies, there was a big housing development that was started pretty well near where I am going to drop you two off. They were building big houses, biigg places there." He gestured with his free hand. "But they lost the contract after they had half-finished the site. Weirdly enough, they just abandoned everything right in place, even some of the construction equipment is still there, I'm told the workmen just walked off site and never came back. It's been like that ever since I started working this line."

Mordecai nodded.

Flint continued. "What I am getting at, is that a few of those houses were pretty much finished, and there is no 'one, not a soul, who hangs around there, its all marked no trespassing but nobody official takes notice. Now, ill be a swell guy and give you the emergency kit from the cab here, theres all kinds of useful things in there. Ill stop the train and let you off, its right next to the tracks you cant miss it. Spend the night in one of them houses."

"That's a good idea." Mordecai said. The more he thought about it, the better it sounded. "You up for it Margaret?"

"Yeah." She nodded. "I'm game."

"Okay, that's the plan then."

The train rattled on through the night, Flint quietly talking about the flavorful points of his life and Mordecai and Margaret listening, laughing when he mentioned humorous things like his niece almost burning down the house with an explosive Thanksgiving day turkey, or when he had accidentally taken a bite out of his telephone. Eventually the avians fell into a shallow slumber, comforted by the noise of the train.

* * *

><p>"Hey lovebirds, c'mon now, time to wake up, we're almost there." Flint's voice echoed through the darkness of Mordecai and Margaret's sleep.<p>

When he saw them silently coming awake, and their eyes open, he continued.

"Enjoying your ride?"

"Mmmmmm...yeah." Mordecai replied, stretching.

"Alright, here's the plan." Flint grinned. "Ill stop the train when we get within walking distance of the old construction site. Ill make up some jazz about a signal test or something so the passengers don't get worried, and I'll kill the lights so that if theres anyone important back there, they wont see people leaving the train and get suspicious. You know how folks are."

"Yeah." Margaret smiled.

"Well, I'd say we're just about there. Would you just look at that bright red signal, I had better stop!" Flint laughed, sarcastically pointing at a signal which shined a deep green lens at them.

He eased off the throttle commutator until it was fully shut off, the electric whine died away, the train coasted. He lightly touched the airbrakes, and Mordecai and Margaret were pushed forwards gently by the easy deceleration. The trees flew by, and then ended.

The train quietly slid to a halt in the middle of a peaceful rolling field, lit up in deep blue by the crescent moon and golden squares by the window light from the traincars.

"Attention passengers." Flint said, picking up the ancient microphone. "There will be a slight delay, a track crew is going to be testing the cutout's along this section of line and we will be without power for a couple of minutes, so don't be alarmed if the lights go out. We'll be back underway very shortly."

Flint winked at Mordecai and Margaret, and then reached up and pulled a large knob above his head.

There was a loud snapping noise, followed by a pneumatic hiss and the noise of the pantographs dropping from the overhead wires, and retracting until they landed squarely on the roofs of the traincars.

All electrical and mechanical noise began to die away, and all the lights of the train faded and went out. Finally, silence and dark, all was still and motionless, the moonlight dominated all.

There were several quiet grumbles from the passenger compartment behind.

"Right." Flint chuckled, sliding open the door on his side with a bang. "First time I've gotten to do that, nice and quiet aint it. Anyway, see that box hanging on the wall?"

Mordecai looked up and did see the outlines of a big box through the darkness.

"That's the emergency kit, in there youll find bandages, some flares, some packaged food, there might be a blanket in there too. That should be enough to get you through the night, so go ahead and take that with you."

"Thanks Flint, thanks for everything." Mordecai replied, taking the heavy box off the wall.

"Yeah, you all have done so much for us." Margaret agreed. "Is there any way we can repay you?"

"Naahhh." Flint shook his head, silhouetted in the doorway against the deep sky. "Just get home safe and sound."

Mordecai shook his hand, slinging the backpack and the box, which had a large strap, around his back. Margaret hugged him as she stepped down.

"See you guys." Flint looked after them, smiling and lighting up another cigar, a speck of orange light in the dark.

Mordecai and Margaret looked back at the train as they walked out into the field, a string of long, dark boxes. The door they had exited from slammed shut, the little orange spark of the cigar tip disappearing.

"Why is it those railroad guys are always so...just so awesome?" Margaret asked.

"I don't know, I bet it's a requirement on the resume to go to work on a railroad, that you just be nice and awesome like that."

They climbed up a small hill on the edge of the field and looked back one last time.

Mordecai waved, wondering if Flint could see him.

As if in reply, there was a loud pneumatic hiss. The wirey assemblies atop the train, looking like the love-children of coat hangars and trapezes, extended up to meet the overhead wires with blinding blue arcs and sparks. The train lights thwacked on, the windows vomiting forth golden light from inside. The green and red classification lights ticked on, and lastly the gigantic headlight. There was the sound of a compressor whirring to life, and lastly the dull electric whine as the wheelmotors began turning. The train slowly slid into motion and accelerated, until the glaring tail-light at it's back end, identical to it's front end, disappeared into the night.

"Well, he said it was just over this hill." Mordecai said, pointing.

Margaret followed.

* * *

><p>Over the rise was quite a sight to behold for the both of them.<p>

In a manmade valley between the trees, hollowed out by machines of excavation, was what had once been a bustling construction site.

The shadows of great machines and earth-moving apparatus lay here and there, among the towering, skeletal forms of houses which protruded up into the sky, crisscrossing the moon and stars with their black struts and angles. Debris and concrete pipes and foundations lay everywhere with no particular rhyme or reason. Small signs from thirty years ago still gloomily advertised the new real-estate. Some of the houses farther in had walls and roofs, and loomed up as great gabled shadows. Holding monarchy over the scene, a great hammerhead crane stood smack in the middle of the site, towering several hundred feet over the abandoned yard of half-finished houses, equipment, materials and upturned ground. At the very apex of the crane was a solitary and quite sad looking red light, slowly ticking on and off to warn airborne passers by of its presence. Hooks dangled silently from the giant mass of trusswork. The mournful flash of the red lamp atop the crane was repeated by a far off radio transmitter of great height, as if in an equally woebegone and lonesome reply, seeming to pity the purposeless of its friend.

They entered the construction yard, the equipment tangled with scrub and vines which had grown in the unfriendly sand and ruined dirt.

Great excavators and bulldozers sat everywhere, their giant wheels, tracks and hydraulic arms, all covered in rust and grease, stood tall in the night air.

"Here holdon, let me see if I can find a light." Mordecai sat down, and opened the big box. After shuffling about it's many contents, he pulled out a cardboard cylinder.

"I think this is a flare." He said, pulling out the metal plug from one end. A spark issued as he pulled it out, and a searing red flame erupted from it's end, lighting up their immediate surroundings.

Old iron tools sat everywhere, strewn about on the ground.

"Those will be useful if we've got to jack open a door." He stated, closing and picking up the box.

"Those look heavy." Margaret said, concernedly. "Need help?"

"Na, I got it, thanks though."

Mordecai lead her between the skeletal frames of the buildings, to the dark shape of the most complete looking house. It had a completed roof, and all the walls were there, there were even windows present. It was a tremendous building, an oddly shaped four-story house with cupolas and many chimneys that would have easily sold for more than a million in the current market, if finished.

Mordecai tried the door, which was locked.

"Hold this." He said to Margaret, giving her the flare.

Mordecai hiked over to a nearby sawhorse, on which sat several hammers.

"If at first you don't succeed, get a bigger hammer!"

Margaret laughed.

Mordecai swung the big sledge as hard as he could at the oppressive little doorknob, which whizzed off into the night with a clang as the hammer met it. Mordecai swore he heard a sharp cry of anger as it disappeared. He took another swing at the stubby little shaft which protruded from its hole, which disintegrated along with its lock mechanism in a shower in sparks. The door swung open to the touch.

They found the house to be semi-furnished. Old bags of chips and crackers had been left in the unfinished cabinets and cupboards, which still smelled faintly of new lumber having been cut. Mordecai was delighted when he tried the sink faucet, and found the water to be still turned on.

"Margaret, there's water pressure, that means the bathrooms work!"

"Oh good, I can freshen up a bit."

The light fixtures did not work, and there was no evidence of electricity. There were several kerosene lanterns left around by the workmen, many of which still had oil in them. Mordecai carefully lit them with the flare, and they both carried them upstairs.

On the fourth floor, they found snug bedrooms and a bathroom, which was finished. The bedrooms were empty except for the last one they checked, which had an old metal-frame bed sitting in it, which Mordecai surmised was also left there by workmen that worked the night shift.

"Here, I've got your regular clothes in my backpack." Mordecai said, having put them in when they had bought the dress in the city.

"Thanks." Margaret replied, taking a lantern into the bathroom. She shut the door and there was the sound of running water.

Mordecai looked over the bed, it was just a mattress. He again opened the box Flint had given him. Getting a good look with the light of the flare and lanterns, he was surprised at just what was in it. Among other things which he would no doubt find useful, there were two small pillows and a thick emergency blanket. He also found a box of matches, a small transistor radio, and a water canteen.

Margaret came out of the bathroom in her old clothes.

"There's no hot water in there, just to tell you." She said. "I'm freezing, tried to take a shower but I couldn't"

"Without electric power I cant run the boiler downstairs either." Mordecai replied. "If there even is one."

He went in and showered himself. The water stung cold, he could not stand in it. He stepped out of the shower and stared at the little flame of the oil lantern.

"Wait, that gives me an idea." He thought to himself.

Coming out of the bathroom, he grabbed the flare, which still burned with an intense heat.

"Margaret, I think I know how to fix the shower problem, hanging out with Alex has done my improvisational skills good I think."

Mordecai shoved the old flare, and a second one which he had just withdrawn and lit from the emergency box, onto the soap shelf sticking out under the showerhead. He put them so their flames shot directly onto the showerhead pipe. If Alex's small lessons in thermodynamics were correct, the flames would not damage the pipe itself, but harmlessly heat the water inside it. He hoped that it would be enough. He turned on the shower, and scalding hot water came out, steaming as it hit the floor. The stream cooled after a few seconds, but remained tolerably luke warm.

"Ha, good stuff!" He exclaimed, raising a fist in victory. "Margaret, I got you some hot water ready!"

Margaret again came out of the bathroom, freshened from a good shower. Mordecai went in next, the flares still burned steadily.

"These things sure got endurance." He thought, turning on the water. the shower seemed to wash away all the stresses of the day. It had been a wonderful night, but his feet were sore from walking, and his back ached from the backpack and supply box.

Mordecai withdrew himself from the bathroom door, feeling quite refreshed. The flares had just gone out, and he had taken care of all the usual things which he did before retiring to bed, taking all the time he needed, which was a pleasurable new novelty as the park house bathroom he was accustomed to was shared by it's many communal residents, and he could only spend five or ten minutes inside before Rigby or Benson came slamming on the door.

Margaret was nowhere to be seen.

"Margaret?" he asked. "Margaret?"

A chair stood in the middle of the room where none had been before.

"Mordecai!" he heard a voice from right above his head.

He looked up to see a skylight in the ceiling standing wide open.

"Mordecai, you've got to come up and see this before we go to sleep!" She begged, her face framed in the skylight.

Mordecai got up on the chair and hoisted himself through the skylight, and onto a shingled roof.

The house towered above the trees and most of the other house frames, and they could see over the countryside for miles. Little twinkling lights here and there among the dark rows of trees and fields, the distant radio tower flashing its many red lights, an airplane moving slowly and silently through the sky, nothing more than a collection of strobing lights. Above them hung the gigantic crane with its solitary red beacon flashing into the night. Everywhere else, the endless, midnight-blue bowl of the sky, with a large silvery crescent moon above. Immense, puffy white cumulus clouds were now drifting over the landscape, benign-looking thunderheads glistening beautifully in the moonlight.

"I feel, if only I could get up there, I could sit on those clouds." Margaret sighed.

"That would be pretty amazing." Mordecai replied.

"It's nights like these that make me miss my father."

"Why is that?"

"He died when I was just a little girl, allzheimers got him."

"Oohhh, I didn't know that, im so sorry."

"It's alright. I miss him though, I can't stand my mother, she's awful."

"Why if you don't mind me asking?"

"All she wants me to do is stay around the house and cook and clean for her, when im gone she always complains how lonely she is. I had such a time convincing her to let me go and get an apartment. She's such a practical thinker, it's horrible, she always openly insults my dreams and tells me they will never work, dad told me to always follow my heart. It was the last thing he said to me..."

"That's no good, you gotta follow your heart." Mordecai said, holding her. "As I have found out. What are your dreams anyway?"

"Oh theyre stupid little things. I want to be a dancer."

"Huh, really? I never knew that!"

"Yeah, I always wanted to be."

"I mean, yeah it makes sense, I can totally picture you doing that."

"Back in the days when I went to school with you, I used to go to this gymnastics and dance class with these other girls, they were all good friends of mine and we always had so much fun. Our instructor was this beautiful French lady, Misses Dubois, and she always took us places and told us to keep trying. When we fell or got something wrong, she was always right there to pick us up and do it with us. We had so much fun, we were all like sisters, and my dad would take me there every afternoon in his car."

Mordecai formed an image in his head, it was very easy to see her doing what she had described.

"But then when he got sick, Mom pulled me out of the class saying it was too expensive and that dad was wasting the family's money away keeping me in that class, which wasn't true of course because it was cheap. Then when we moved so dad could live in a better hospital, I never saw any of them again. I'll never forget the day he died, he got out of the hospital bed by himself and came to the house, and he seemed to be okay. He got me in his car and we drove the few miles back to our old town, and we went to our old house, before we got the apartment. He told me he was tired and that he wanted to get out of the hospital, and he climbed in bed and told me a story, and then he just...went to sleep."

Mordecai could tell Margaret was close to crying.

"What story did he tell you?"

"He told me something really profound and beautiful, about how when it rains and storms, the thunder is actually a group of gigantic old men high up in the mountains, playing ninepins. Whenever the huge balls they roll hit the pins, the boom echoes across the land to where the storm is. I asked him why he was telling me this story, and he told me because he could see the mountains, and the old men, even as he was telling me the story, he could see them, and he was going to go meet them. Then he said to me, always hold onto your heart, whatever happens to you."

She turned to face him, her eyes glassy. She smiled.

"I loved the trip we went on tonight, I want to go on more trips with you."

"Where do you want to go?" Mordecai asked.

"I want to see the Ocean." She replied. "I've never seen the ocean before, I've heard how beautiful it is."

Mordecai had never seen the ocean either, and a longing hidden deep down inside him to see it as well sprang up.

"Then that's where we will go."

Margaret pressed close to him.

"So, you still dance?" He asked.

"When I'm alone and I know nobody will see me look stupid."

"Well how about you show me?"

"Oh I couldn't."

"Nonsense, here look, there was a little radio in the emergency box, I think it picks up FM too." Mordecai said, picking up the little black box. He turned the dial, static. He tuned through all the channels, through several awful songs, until he found the softer voice of a nighttime announcer. The signal was very clear, probably from the nearby tower off in the distance.

"And hello all you night-birds out there, it's three-o-four in the morning, and you are listening to eighty-eight point nine, W-P-O-F out of Beecher Falls, the station for the smooootth songs from the good old days of rock. And now here's a nice little song if you're looking to get some sleep and you just cant find the peace, Sting and his endless fields of gold."

With that, the wonderful notes of the old Sting song started.

"Ohhh I love this song." Margaret cooed.

"Yeah, they never play it anymore." Mordecai nodded.

_You'll remember me, when the west-wind moves_

_Upon the fields of Barley_

_You can tell the sun, in his jealous sky_

_As we walk in fields of Gold._

With that, Margaret got up on the angled roof, and found her footing on a few pieces of forgotten scaffolding. She began to sway in rhythm to the song, and practice a few simple steps.

"_So she took her love for to gaze awhile  
><em>

_Upon the fields of Barley  
><em>

_In his arms she fell as her hair came down  
><em>

_Among the fields of Gold"_

She twirled and spun, using her arms to balance as she dipped, jumped, soared and landed silently. She moved with uncanny grace. Mordecai just stared in amazement.

"_Will you stay with me, will you be my love  
><em>

_Among the fields of Barley?  
><em>

_We'll forget the sun in his jealous sky  
><em>

_As we lie in fields of Gold  
><em>

_See the west wind move like a lover so  
><em>

_Upon the fields of Barley  
><em>

_Feel her body rise when you kiss her mouth  
><em>

_Among the fields of Gold_

_I never made promises lightly_

_And there have been some that I've broken  
><em>

_But I swear in the days still left  
><em>

_We'll walk in fields of Gold  
><em>

_We will walk in fields of Gold_

_Many years have passed since those summer days_

_Among the fields __of Barley  
><em>

_See the children run as the sun__ goes down  
><em>

_Among the fields of Gold  
><em>

_You'll remember me when the west wind moves  
><em>

_Upon the fields of Barley  
><em>

_You can tell the sun in his jealous sky  
><em>

_When we walked in fields of Gold"_

Margaret finished her improvised routine and sat down by him.

"What did you think?" She asked, timidly.

Mordecai stayed silent.

_When we walked in fields of Gold  
><em>

_Whe__n we walked in fields of Gold_

Mordecai clicked off the radio, the kissed her. She held onto him and laughed.

"Well here's your bed." Mordecai said. "I got it all made with the blanket from the emergency box, I shall take the floor."

"No you wont." Margaret replied, again floored by his chivalry. "You've done too much for me tonight, you take the bed."

"No I insist."

"Mordecai?"

"Yep?"

"W-why – why don't we both..."

"Are you sure about that?"

"Mordecai, I trust you. I don't trust many people like I trust you, everything you've done tonight and over the past few days has made me trust you."

"Well...alright."

The two of them climbed underneath the old blanket. It was thick, heavy and downy, not at all like the cheap, thin, scratchy emergency blanket Mordecai had expected.

The pillows were deep. Mordecai shuffled as far to the edge of the bed as he could.

As his eyes began to shut, he felt Margaret nestle up against him.

"Hey you, sleep that close to the end and you'll fall off. Come here." She whispered.

He rolled over towards her, and to his surprise she snuggled close to him.

"Hope you don't get weirded out or anything, but I don't sleep with my clothes on." She said.

"You-you don't...you what?" Mordecai stuttered, feeling her soft feathers. She wasn't lying, that was for sure.

She laughed. "I always knew you were the right one." Mordecai jumped as she ran her wing down his back.

"Oh my god, you're ticklish!" She exclaimed with delight. She flung herself upon him, and reacted similarly when he got her under her wings.

"Oh look at that, so are you." He responded, sarcastically.

This erupted into a full-on tickle fight, which then very quickly turned into something much more intimate.

* * *

><p>"Mordecai?" Margaret sighed, pressing her head into the side of his. Hey lay on top of her, he face down and she face up, underneath the heavy old blanket. They were both relaxed, to the point of not being able to move. It was a first for both of them, this new feeling of absolute release.<p>

"You make me feel good." She said, closing her eyes.

"Yeah, you make me feel good too." He replied.

"I love you." She whispered.

"I love you too." He whispered back, the words making her shiver with pure joy.

He had said it back.

They fell asleep almost instantly. Margaret felt that familiar spark she had with him, she knew she would always be able to count on him, and that he would never leave her. This comforting thought and feeling filled her body and spirit as they fell into a deep sleep.


	10. Manhã Dourada

The sun rose gloriously over the rolling countryside. The top of rusted old crane boom caught the light first, a swath of gold slowly moving down its still, towering mass, then touching the roofs of the houses and finally the ground around them, strewn with equipment, machined and tools that the daylight look made forlorn and waiting to be found. Margaret slowly came awake as a ray of light played on her face through the window. She looked through the glass square at the beautiful, wonderful world outside. The daylight illuminated the previously dark flatland. Small hills and valleys covered with thick emerald trees stretched out as far as she could see. The high radio tower had ceased it's incessant red flashing and seemed to have gone to sleep, as if it was nocturnal being. On the very edge of the horizon, a few white houses sat, mere thumbtacks on the great board of green land.

"Mmmmmmm." She murmured. Margaret suddenly realized the absence of weight upon her. She turned over and looked to the opposite side of the bed.

Mordecai was not there.

A billion thoughts suddenly whirled through her head. Where was Mordecai? He couldn't have, he just couldn't have.

"Mordecai?" She asked, fervently. "Mordecai?" She pleaded, she was scared. "Mordecai? Where are you?"

There was no answer. The backpack and emergency box were gone.

She couldn't believe it. She thought he had loved her, she loved him. He was nowhere. Maybe he had gotten scared, maybe he had gotten tired of her. Every guy she had ever been with had, why should he be any different. She was stupid to think it would be different. But, that night, that wonderful night that occurred just hours before, she thought they had formed a bond. Why did he leave? Was it all fake? Was he just "trying things out", getting a feel for how to handle other women? He even took all the supplies with him!" No, she inwardly slapped herself. "How dare you talk about him like that, you paranoid bitch." But, this self chastisement did not change the fact he was not there. She wanted him to be there, she wanted him back. There was no good reason for him to not be there. Maybe this world wasn't so wonderful as she had thought. The robin's eyes began to fill with large, wet tears, and she whimpered, not trying to restrain the sobs, as there was clearly nobody there.

Half under the old emergency blanket in the old bed in the old abandoned house, in the middle of the old yard full of lost and forgotten things, Margaret cried, she cried as her heart broke, as if she was becoming one of those lost and forgotten things. She cried un-restrainedly, curling up underneath the covers. She did not want to think of where she would go or how to get home, it all seemed so easy with Mordecai by her side, but she couldn't go anywhere, it hardly mattered that the invaluable and useful contents of the box were gone with it. None of it mattered. Margaret sobbed openly and pitifully.

"Margaret?" A concerned voice asked from across the room.

Margaret turned to look.

The blue crest, wide eyes and long beak of her lover poked through the bedroom door.

"What are you crying for?"

Margaret sat up in the bed, her sobs trailing off. "You – you're here, ohh Mordecai where did you...you were gone when I woke up...I thought that..."

"I'm here now." Mordecai smiled. "I was hoping you'd still be asleep when I got back."

He then walked through the door, and Margaret started crying again.

Between Mordecai's arms was a sprawling aluminum tray of a simply gigantic variety which she had never seen before. On this tray was such a breakfast as to feed the richest and most sedentarily arrogant of aristocratic persons. Pancakes steamed on a large plate with a flask of what looked to be real, honest-to-goodness maple syrup, pieces of almost-burnt toast sat on another, a stick of butter leering out from behind them. Waffles that had once been stacked had fallen over on their journey, fresh strawberries filled a gigantic bowl, sausages sat here and there, and two huge glasses of orange juice sat in the remaining space.

Margaret, a naturally vocal being, was simply overwhelmed. The turnaround in and contrast between what _appeared _to be true and_ was_ _actually _true was so mind-bogglingly staggering in degree, she could not stop her own tears, although she now cried for a different reason.

"Whats wrong Margaret?" Mordecai asked more concernedly, setting the tray down on the floor and sitting down on the bed.

Margaret flew to him.

"I love you so very much." She wept. "Why are you just so good?"

"Oh, wait, you thought I had left didn't you?" He asked.

"Mhmm!"

"You silly girl, you know I would never. It's completely my fault though, I had wanted to surprise you with breakfast and I timed it badly."

"Where did you get all that?" Margaret quavered, drying her eyes and drifting between sobs and laughter.

"You would not believe what is in that emergency box." Mordecai laughed, squeezing her to him.

"The pancakes though?"

"Flour, batter, salt, butter and sugar from the box. Would you believe there was an _egg carton_ in there."

"And the toast?"

"There was a loaf of wheat bread in there too."

"What about the waffles?"

"Same story, everything was in the box."

"How'd you cook it all?"

"Oh that was fun, I started up one of the bulldozers out there and cooked everything at once on the radiator."

"But...But..." Margaret stammered. "The sausage? The orange juice? The maple syrup, the _Strawberries?_ Where'd all _that _come from?"

"Welllll, that's a slightly different matter." Mordecai scratched the back of his head and looked the other way, wondering how he should relate it.

* * *

><p>Out in the middle of the rolling countryside, a little black parking-meter slithered through the tall grass, a gigantic picnic basket in tow.<p>

"Ahh, finally, It's about time they gave me a day off! What a beautiful morning, the birds are singing, I can finally have a proper breakfast by myself where I can think, away from horrible, _loathsome PEOPLE!"_ It said angrily to itself.

Arriving at a spot it found satisfactory, it hopped atop the picnic basket and flung its wicker lids wide open.

There was nothing inside.

A small crack ran slowly across the parking meter's glass face, and its little mechanical pieces whirred.

"But...I don't understand...How did..." It asked, frantically. After searching to see if this was all in fact merely a humorous and marvelous mis-understanding due to some kind of false bottoming which it never knew the basket possessed, which was decidedly not the case, the parking meter tilted itself at the sky.

"**NNNNNOOOOOOOOOOOOO!**" It shrieked, rattling and writhing with pulsating fury through every fiber of it's being, and causing birds in the nearby trees to take flight. "**NNNNOOOTTTT AAGGAAAAIIIINNN!**"

* * *

><p>Margaret laughed harder than she had in years, and Mordecai laughed with her. He had taken just as much joy relating the story as she had listening to it.<p>

"I – I c-can't-oheeehehehehehehe!" she tried to talk through her mirth, but it overwhelmed her. Mordecai savored her infectious laugh as it mixed with his. He had not been filled with such mirth for quite some time, this was one of those special times to treasure when laughter ruled all else.

When they had managed to calm the heated laughing fits, their sides aching, they pulled the tray up on the bed and tore into their breakfast. It was delicious, every part of it. Even as they ate, sounds of uncontrollable joy escaped between the pieces of food.

* * *

><p>"God dammit-nabbit daggit flabbit <em>babbit-bearing<em> dag nag dab _naggit dag-gammit-naggit_ dabbit naggit **DAMNIT**!" Alex roared as little molten-hot pieces of lead type-blocks shot at him at great speed. The Mighty Mergenthaler was having a tantrum. Alex covered his face with his hands and did his best military-maneuver off the chair, smashing onto the floor and rolling as the immense Linotype machine heaved and vomited out hot lead in a mass of whirling belts, wheels, cranks and cams. After all the type blocks had vacated the tray of the machine, which was still protesting and making thousands of mechanical movements, Alex rushed over and cut main power to it's gigantic motor. The machine, protestingly, stopped.

Alex had been called by the local newspaper company to repair and refurbish their last Mergenthaler Linotype typesetting machine, both as an important historical artifact and as an operating typesetter, as they did not have the money to afford a new one. Alex had taken on the challenge with glee, never having had a prior chance to work with a Linotype. However, despite their ingenious design and principal, he was quickly finding out that these machines could be even more temperamental, arbitrary, troublesome, gremlin-riddled, malicious, mischievous, ungracious, and simply evil, than the steam engines he was accustomed to, let alone being infinitely more complex. The thousands of moving parts all packaged tightly into small spaces and arrangements intrigued, but also confounded and infuriated him. It was worse than the one percent electrical, ninety-nine percent mechanical lever-trip-and-cam relay networking boxes which filled the airship Wanderer.

Still, he had to try. The money he had been offered for the repair would pay for new pieces for both Oswald and the Indian YP class steam locomotive, and furthermore he had never given up on a machine like this yet, and he would be damned and blasted if a typesetting machine would bring him down. He took another swig of Maksim's Vodka, which the Russian _insisted_ that he borrow when he heard his comrade was to attempt a repair on a Mergenthaler, and that he could get more later from Andre and Mikhail.

* * *

><p>Benson shot up in the bed. He was in a wonderful white place, staring right out a large square glass window into the rising sun. He smiled in relief, he had just had the most horrible nightmare. "Wait until I tell skips." The gumball machine thought. He had dreamed an awful, awful dream in which he had foolishly taken on a young employee who had been allowed to add several gigantic and ungodly steam driven machines to the working roster of the park, which in turn had lead to an odd series of events that had culminated by Benson himself being hit by a car. What a ridiculous dream. He was telling himself how ridiculous the dream was, when his trusted employee, friend and advisor skips walked in.<p>

"How are you feeling buddy?" the yeti asked.

"I feel fine, why?"

"Oh good, that means the pain killers they've got you on are working." Skips half-smiled. "You've always told me to be honest man, so I will say you look awful."

Benson looked around frantically, and realized the wonderful white place was full of quietly beeping, buzzing and hissing medical machines, and that he had several tubes hooked up to him. Nurses bustled about other patients on beds just like his. The dream he had woken up from was not a dream in the slightest. Benson hated the sight of the impossibly clean, horrid little hoses entering through his gumball hatch.

"The good news is, you got a good doctor. He's got a friend who restores old vending machines, and he had just your pieces, they replaced a lot of your internal parts." Skips continued. "That doctor of yours even went back to where you got hit and found a couple of your missing gumballs."

"I...dont...care." Benson hissed through gritted teeth. "I want out of here, NOW."

"No can do boss, and im real sorry, but the doc says two more weeks at least, and even then youll be in a wheel chair for a little while, just a little while though. Those new pieces helped your prognosis, its way better than he thought originally."

Benson fumed and boiled with anger, but he managed to suppress it, knowing if he went into a rage here of all places, he would most likely end up being dragged by two non-effeminate, burly-armed policemen-like nurses to the psyche-ward, where he would be unceremoniously strapped to a table and given all manner of unnecessary sedatives in an invasive manner.

"Skips, I know I can count on you in most situations, so I'm putting you in charge of the park until I'm ready to get out of here." Benson said, carefully choosing his words. "Don't hesitate on threatening to fire people, it's the only way to make most of them work, especially those two idiots Rigby and Mordecai. Alex can keep those engines of his going for now, but only because they actually help with work so much. If anything else bad happens because of them, I don't care if it's a damaged bush or a broken pebble, you tell him to either discontinue their use or just fire him. Oh, and not a word to mister Maellard, if he finds out I left you to do my job, I'm done for. If he shows up and wants to know where I am, tell him I am out overseeing a job."

"Gotcha." Skips nodded. "Anything else?"

"Yeah, get me some saltines, I'm damned hungry."

"I don't think they'll let you eat, boss." Skips said, immediately seeing his bosses' face and globe go bright red. "But I'll check!" he added quickly.

* * *

><p>"Think I should have worn the dress?" Margaret asked.<p>

Mordecai nuzzled the back of her neck as he helped the shirt over her shoulders.

"Well, it would help us hitch-hike, just not with the kind of people we'd want." He replied. She laughed.

"I don't want to ruin it, but I want to where it everywhere I go now. It'll always be special, it'll always remind me of that wonderful night.

"Oh but we're gonna have so much more _like_ it!"

"And that's why I love you." Margaret turned around and kissed him.

In a short while, the two had packed their remaining things into Mordecai's backpack and the emergency box. Mordecai had grabbed a few of the lanterns and tools and stuffed them in as well, figuring Alex would be overjoyed with them. The two lovers looked up at the old, not-quite-finished house which had played host to them over the deep autumn night.

"Be seeing you, thanks for everything." Mordecai saluted the odd old building, which said absolutely nothing in reply.

"C'mon, let's find a road." He said. "I doubt we can flag down another train."

Margaret had insisted on taking his backpack, as he had the big box.

* * *

><p>It did not take them long to find a road, they followed the long, winding dirt driveway out of the construction site to a well-used state route. They were greeted by the black fumes of a big Mack truck towing a silvery gasoline tank as it roared past. Every minute or so, a car, group of cars, or a big truck would zoom by.<p>

Mordecai and Margaret sat down on an old ruined piece of guard-rail, dropped their respective packs, and stuck their thumbs out.

Car after car passed, with no'one bothering to stop.

"Let's face it." Mordecai said to Margaret. "The era of hitchhiking is dead and has been that way for awhile, everyone's too busy nowadays. Nobody's gonna stop, let alone even look."

Margaret dropped her thumb in defeat, just as a far-away truck put on it's turn signal.

"Hey, hey wait, forget what I said, looks like someone's stopping!" Mordecai exclaimed, shielding his eyes from the rising sun.

An old and battered pickup truck pulled to a stop on the side of the road. The truck was very old indeed, a 1937 Studebaker pickup in chipped red paint, rust showing through. The big round headlights blared in their faces, and the old engine clattered.

"Hoi, come here now, climb in!" Said a woman in a Portuguese accent.

The truck cab was large and wide, and missing it's back window. The truck itself was hung with all manner of odd things, gold and silver ribbon and lace, flags from every country of the world, and the bed was filled with things, old lamps, the pieces of a chicken-coup, wind-spinners and weathervanes, tripods, and two gigantic upright pianos.

"Where jou guys headed?" Asked the plump, tan-faced woman behind the wheel.

Mordecai related where he and Margaret needed to go, and gave what he thought were accurate enough directions based on what Flint had told him, and his sense of direction.

"Oh, that's good, this road goes right through jour town, I've been through it many a time!" The woman replied, happily. "Meu nome é Manuela, come in and sit down."

Mordecai did understand the slightest bit of Portuguese.

"Glad to meet you, Manuela, and thanks for stopping." Mordecai replied. "I'm Mordecai, and this is Margaret."

"Aha, the tree M's, I like that!" Manuela chuckled, putting the old truck in gear and pulling off from the side of the road.

"So, jou two _amantes_?" She asked.

They looked at her questioningly.

"Lovers?" She asked again.

The avians both blushed.

"Why yes, yes we are." Mordecai replied, not used to saying it, and relishing the words as they left his beak.

"Ahaaaa, excelente!" Manuela exclaimed. "Nothing half so much makes life worth living as O amor. Perdoe-me for asking, it's my way. Now, what'choo doin' out here hitchiking with that big ol'caixa for?" She asked, pointing at Mordecai's box.

The bluejay looked at the robin, who nodded. She seemed like a good-spirited, trustworthy woman.

Mordecai and Margaret began relating the long story of the night they had shared, and the longer story of the relationship, which took nearly a half hour. Through it, Manuela gasped, laughed, clutched her heart and teared up once or twice animatedly.

"Meu Deus, que maravilha!" She sighed. "Eu gostaria de ter noites que encantadora quando eu era uma menina!"

"Pardon?" Mordecai asked.

"Oh eu sinto muito-sorry." She replied. "I said, I wish I had nights as enchanting as that when I was a girl. You two are very lucky to have eachother, remember that, never take anything for granted!"

The old truck clattered along.

"So where are you from, Manuela?" Margaret asked.

"Oh, em toda parte, everywhere really." Manuela replied. "I was born and grew up in Portugal, but then minha família and I moved to Brazil, Rio de Janeiro to be exato. I am a collector of many things, as you can probably see by what's in back. I travel the world, and I am on my way back home now to _lar doce lar_ with Pianos for my Children. I vill catch a south-bound ship in San Francisco, truck and all."

"Huh, we know a collector too." Margaret replied. "Thats wonderful, I hope your children enjoy the pianos."

"Ohh, my little Affonso will play his heart out, until now he has been practicing on the piano at the house of his tio Raphael, oh how his face will light up when he sees them! My daughter Fayre just bangs on the keys, she is too little to know how to play, but her big irmã Esperanza helps her along. I have a musical family."

More stories were shared as the trio rolled along the road.

* * *

><p><strong>Haaahahah, I bet I had you all going at the beginning there. Sorry for my cruel-spirited little move there, but all good stories have them. Anyway, I thought the morning of the following day would need a chapter all its own, so here it is.<strong>


	11. Interesting and Preculiar Occurences

**Sorry for the wait, I've been writing as fast as the old keyboard will take. I think the bit from the last chapter about them meeting Manuela should be a part of this chapter instead, but too late now and it doesnt really matter. **

**On with the story...**

* * *

><p>With how the trio talked amongst themselves, they seemed to arrive in town in seconds. The state route was the very same one which passed directly through the town as Main Street.<p>

"Aww, we're here already?" Manuela huffed. "Just when we were getting to know eachohter!"

"Manuela, it was a pleasure meeting you, good travels!" Margaret replied, unbuckling her seatbelt.

"Adeus e boa sorte!" Mordecai said, having learned more of the portuguese language from Manuela's colorful speech, exclamations, and short lessons in the past hour than he had cumulativley in the entirety of his prior life.

"E boa sorte para vocês, meus dois novos amigos." Manuela smiled. "Oh wait, um momento." She withdrew a piece of paper and scribbled an adress and postal code on it.

"Write me some time, anytime." She said firmly.

"Will do!" the avians replied.

"Ah, e uma última coisa!" Manuela had an afterthought, and reached behind her seat where several carpets were packed. She withdrew a tiny brass spyglass attatched to a tripod which sat upon compass binnacle.

"Uma lembrança da nossa pequena viagem." She said, then realising she had drifted into portuguese again, continued, "A momento of our little trip. May it serve you well and let you always remember."

Mordecai took the delicate little brass instrument in his hands along with the paper. It was very, very finely made. The compass needle drifted around as he turned it, and a little shield-shaped manufacturers plate clearly read: "Heathton Nautical Engineering, Bristol, England. 1909."

"Thank you!" He called, as Manuela put the truck in gear.

"Adeus, meus amigos!" She called back as the old Studebaker truck sped away, the myriad of things from far off places swaying in the back bed.

Margaret turned to her companion, smiling broadly.

"We sure do meet the most wonderful people."

"That we do, we'll have to stay in touch with her."

* * *

><p>The Linotype machined hurled the wrench clear across the room.<p>

"Right!" Alex exclaimed, furiously as the wrench smashed merely feet away from a cabinet of lantern glass. "You win Mergenthaler, enough of that for one day!"

"Vhat is wrong Tovarsch? You giving up?" Maksim asked.

"No no, I'm just taking a break from this god-awful thing for today." Alex replied. "I got a bunch of things put right, the main drive mechanism and motion is all sorted out, but its like every time I fix something I find ten more broken things that I never knew were even there!"

"Ahaha, Ees like trying to repair Mikoyan jet-fighters in home-country!" Maksim laughed and laughed. "Don't worry, you get it right soon."

"How's Oswald and the YP coming?"

"Crown sheet has been removed from Indian locomotive, piece fell apart as we took it out, will need new one made. Also, axle-boxes have been removed and ve are goink to re-bearing them. Old superheater was ruined, Andre is machining new headers and has just ordered thousand or so feet of new pipe for superheater tubes."

"Sounds like we got our work cut out."

"Dah. Oswald Ees in better shape. No firebox damage, but I wanted to know if you wanted to just do a boiler renewal as you were planning to do in near future."

"Yeah, flues and stays, the works. Ultrasound it for thinspots too, I don't think there should be any because of the Porta treatment we've given her over her whole working life, but it doesn't hurt to check. Also, check the front tubeplate, it might be damaged from the crash and need replacing."

"Dah, I will set up the mill and tell Andre and Mikhail to prepare for rebuild, I go order pipe and materials from contractor."

"Make sure you only get that stuff from triple-star metalworks, those are the only people I trust!" Alex replied, tiredly, resting his head in his hands.

"Dah!" Maksim replied, diligently.

Andre was munching on a gigantic sandwich.

"Vy, Polozhi na mesto i pomoch mne rabotat!" Maksim ordered.

"Dah!" Andre managed to say through bites as he frantically tried to down the sandwich.

"Nu, parovozy ne remontiruyut sami!" Maksim hurried him, insistently.

Alex banged his head on the desk. His work was becoming mind-boggling again, some times he just wanted to shut down. He had taken on too many projects at once, and he couldn't stick to one for very long because he would get bored, and if that happened nothing would go anywhere. He liked rotating between projects quickly, that was what worked best for him, but here he was stuck with two inoperable steam engines, one neglected and deteriorated and the other wrecked, and a Linotype machine with aggression problems.

"Alex?" asked a familiar voice from the door. "You at home?"

It was Mordecai.

"Aha, hey there." Alex waved, getting up. He saw that Mordecai was accompanied by Margaret.

"Where the heck did you two get off to last night? I was getting a bit worried!" He said.

"Oh, just here and there." Mordecai laughed, going a bit red. Margaret went very red.

Alex's face suddenly changed. The rings around his eyes thickened, every crease on his face deepened and exaggerated, his unibrow folded up on itself, and his mouth protruded a bit more, and yet somehow he kept his original placid expression.

"You two...went...and you...didn't you?" He stuttered, raised his finger.

Mordecai went redder still, and Margaret hid her blush behind her hand.

"Oh my god you _did!_" Alex finished for them. "Well I'll just leave you alone then, I think the YP-P...P needs a new erm...crown bar."

"YP class does not _have_ crown-bars!" Maksim shouted frustratedly clear across the workshop, having somehow heard him over the great distance and his incessant hammering.

This time Alex went red, and scuffled off angrily to find blueprints for the steam locomotive.

The lovers were left alone together, the only sound was the far off banging and clattering of the three Russian men forcibly manipulating metal.

They drew very close and looked at eachother, and all they could do was awkwardly giggle.

"Don't mind me I just have to sharpen this...propeller." Alex said, stomping down the stairs.

"You mean Sikorsky five-blade? I sharpened dis morning!" again came Maksim's far off reply.

"How did, he shouldn't be able to, he can't even see in here...WILL YOU SHUT UP, **PLLLEEEEEAAASSEE!"** Alex mumbled and then shrieked into the workshop door.

"Aaaaahhhaa ha ha ha Haaaa!" Maksim's deep laugh faded into the sound of the machinery.

* * *

><p>"Yeah, I've seen less and less of Mordecai these days." Rigby said, sadly.<p>

"Hey, things change." John replied, hoisting up his can of soda. "Sometimes people just gotta move on and whatnot."

"But I don't wanna move on, he's my best friend!" The raccoon whined.

"Yeah well sometimes best friends need breaks from eachother, its like listening to the same song over and over, no matter how good it is you gotta listen to other songs!"

"That isn't true, there is this one song I just play over and over and it never gets old."

John stared at him. "You some kinda weirdo."

"It's so weird, everything changed the day you and Alex came in on the airship. Mordecai got with Margaret, god I hate her, she's the reason I never see him anymore." Rigby responded.

"Look, Rigby, I don't and probably never will have a girlfriend, and I can only imagine how wonderful having the _right _one is. Let him be, they are made for eachother."

It tore the little Raccoon up. He looked down in defeat.

"Oh, Alex is having a little cookout tonight after the days work is done, you're comin right?" John asked.

"I'll have to." Rigby said. He was actually looking forward to the days work, it would be time spent with Mordecai.

* * *

><p>"Okay c'mon guys, front and center." Skips clapped his hands.<p>

Muscleman, Mordecai, Rigby and Alex all went to stand in front of Skips.

"Ooohhh kkkaayyy." Skips said, beginning to list things off. "Muscleman, go find Highfive Ghost and tend the vegetable garden. Mordecai, Rigby, you two gotta mow the lawn in the southern fields, I fixed the old Pacer so you should be good to go. Alex, I cant believe I am saying this, but we might need that engine of yours today, like officially."

"What needs to be done cap?" Alex asked.

"We found the garden tool shed two miles away on the north side of the park." Skips said. Everyone raised an eyebrow. "We think it was either some really smart pranksters or some really stupid burglars, or maybe a combination. Can you put...I dunno...put it on one of those...carriage things you always seem to have and move it back to where it's supposed to be?"

"No sooner said than done!" Alex saluted. "I'd anticipated using one of the old buckets, so I kept Ledyard under steam through the night, I'll be right back."

Alex sprinted off down the hill. Muscleman left to go find his friend, and Mordecai and Rigby turned to leave.

"Ready to have some fun?" Rigby asked.

"Whatever man, it's just mowing the lawn." Mordecai replied.

"Not just mowing the lawn when we put this nitrous oxide booster I got from John on the mower engine!"

"Are you kidding? You want it to blow up again?"

"Relax we'll only use a little bit."

* * *

><p>"HOW did I let you talk me INTO THIS!" Mordecai screamed, holding on for dear life as the mower redlined over the field much faster than it had ever gone before, Rigby clung to the hood and shouted.<p>

"Woooohhhooo!" he shrieked as the lawnmower catapulted itself into the air and over a small rise in the land.

It was the weirdest thing, but Mordecai didn't find this fun anymore. Sure, the feeling of speed was exhilarating, but it had lost it's childish fun. Now it seemed reckless and unnecessary, it drew attention, and now the bluejay was sure he had been hanging around Alex too long because, now he also took into consideration the lawnmower itself. He could hear the engine being over-stressed. It was a bad feeling, deep down inside him, which he had never felt before. This just was not fun, his idea of fun and happiness had changed when the beautiful robin had become a part of his life. Had he outgrown Rigby?

* * *

><p>Skips sat down on an old chair and meditated in the basement of the dark old house. It was his way, he would often go down there, shut off the boiler and all the lights so everything was absolutely quiet and still, and sit in the small beam of light through the dust and gloom from the solitary and tiny ceiling-level window. This is how he cleared his head. Things in the great flux of life, usually so boring and constant and always bouncing back to the way it was after a violent and momentary disturbance, <em>usually caused by Mordecai and Rigby<em>, seemed to be shuffling through a tumultuous re-arrangement. Everything was changing with the autumn, things that hadn't shifted in years were shifting. Even the wind was coming in from a direction it never did, it was coming in from the west, and blowing strong every day towards the east. It occurred to Skips that he had never seen the wind blow toward the east in the entire time of his stay at the park. He felt other things shifting, it was all in the air around him. A new arrival had blown in on a great flying ship, this was certainly the, or part of the catalyst of the great changes in the clockworks of everyday life he had been witnessing, and felt he was to witness. Skips had a keen sense of what was to come, and was very apprehensive of a few major changes. In all his days he had never seen someone quite like Alex. His personality was strangely deep and shallow at the same time. He was a very black-and-white kind of fellow who hated vagueness and could only stand things being one way or another way. He could tell just by the way he talked he hated indecision, and was an impatient sort of fellow. However, he could see deeper than that into Alex, he saw a powerhouse of a mind which worked in strange, unique ways, a camera, computer, library and _person_ all in one. He had seen people with these individual traits, the soulless number-crunchers, the inquisitive intellectuals, the photographic memories, the knowledge, but never this much all rolled into one. Either he was a raving lunatic and a damned fool, or quite profound and wise beyond his years. He could also see a small, aching heart hidden behind layers and layers of hard, cold, riveted steel that he had built up long ago, and was still building up. For this, Skips pitied Alex tremendously. Skips also sensed the leaving of something that had been a part of life for awhile. Many other things had shifted. He knew Margaret and Mordecai were romantically involved, he had detected it with his trained hyper-observance, conversations of other people around town, the way Mordecai had been acting and where he had been traveling.

However, it hadn't donned upon him fully until he had seen it for himself. He had caught Mordecai and Margaret playing like children in one of the fields a few days back, during some off time. Even the cool, emotionless yeti had been touched by what he had witnessed. He could see the love surging and trailing between the two, figuratively of course, but also literally. Skips had an eye for strong forces. The lines, rays, tendrils and ribbons of wonderous colored light which flowed between the two when they were close together was like something he had only seen once or twice before, and much stronger at that. They had obviously made love by now, but that was a meaningless side fact. Somewhere along the way, beit at that time or otherwise, an intense bond had formed, like two gears made for eachother meshing in perfect synchronicity. He saw these kinds of light rays pulling between the moon and oceans as they playfully tried to catch eachother. He saw them, on a rare occasion, strung over the telephone lines when a soldier in a far off land talked tearfully to his beloved wife. He saw them twirled about nests in trees, between mother birds and their tiny hatchlings as they begged for food. He saw them between the sun and all under its light which depended on it for growth. He felt it as well, beneath his feet, as what some scientists called the _weakest_ force, gravity, how mother earth pulled everything which sat upon her soft blue and green surface to her so as to not lose her billions of children and the things they had made and done. He saw a good bit of it between Alex and his hundreds of machines, which really did seem to have a soul all their own, put in them by all the love and workmanship of their creators, and all they had experienced, seen and done over their working lives. However, nothing he had seen compared to the strength and intensity of it between Margaret and Mordecai.

Bonds of this nature out powered the strongest of electromagnetic, chemical, or molecular forces of the known scientific universe. He should know, he had read all the books. He even had a phone call with a certain mister Einstein many years ago, a brilliant man, who unfortunately could not see outside of his numbers. Had a man like Einstein been given the time, he would have eventually discovered the nature of the mathematical universe. What would he have done then? Where would he have gone? He would have been bored out of his wits, numbers being a finite thing. He probably would have ended up committing suicide once he had succeeded in counting to infinity minus one, for the sheer knowledge that he had reached the limit of extant numerical values. The poor man had figured out how to split atoms, and in turn made a more effective way of killing people for the fool's conventions that were the governments controlling many nations of the world. Well, he rested in peace now, maybe finally finding the things he craved that were beyond his beloved numbers.

He also saw Rigby and Mordecai drawing apart. It happened, things changed. Rigby and the other new, slightly lower-profile arrival, John, shared personality types. They would end up being the best of friends, he was sure of it. The more he thought about it, the more he came to a solid, resolute conclusion, not of what was to happen, but that something was _going_ to happen. He smiled as he turned the singular lightbulb above his head on, marveling at the complexity and subtleness of the world around him.

"It'll all be alright." He assured himself, his head still within the great majestic clockworks. "Everything's gonna turn out just fine. It's about time I figured that out."

* * *

><p>Unbelievably, the old <em>Pacer 700<em> had stayed in one piece after the nitro-boosted ride of terror. At any rate, the lawn was done, and quick as a flash. The raccoon and jay hoped Skips, or whoever was in charge by now, would notice the few rakish spots they had missed when the mower had left the ground. The ride was so tiring, the two had laid down in the short grass on their backs, and Rigby, after complaining of Margaret for a few minutes, had fallen asleep.

Mordecai was deep in thought. The more he thought of her, the more he fell in love with the soft, lovely and ample-bosomed Robin. She was like a drug to him, a wonderful drug with no bad sideffects, only absolute and raw joy every time he was with her. She was teaching him things too, without even trying. She taught him things about himself, about herself, about emotion and its flow. Among other things, she had taught him that the stereotype of "The pretty ones are _**never**_ nice" was as false as Joe Biden wanting a tax cut. He hated admitting it, just because of the guy he was, but _physically_, Margaret was the girl of his dreams. She was soft, deep, curvy, her body was accented perfectly by her vivacious and flirtatious personality, which as he had found out ran much deeper than met the eye. He loved her with all his heart, soul and blue feathers. He especially thought of what she had told him on that wonderous night, about her loss and sadness of the past, and how she _desperately_ longed to see the ocean. He had resolved to, by hook or by crook, take her to see the ocean, some time soon. The old moon was waning fast, this place, these people, although his friends, the only friends he ever had until this point, had nothing more to offer him, his love for Margaret ruled all that he did. A future beckoned to him over the far off horizon line. A plan was beginning to formulate in his mind.

* * *

><p>The air over the northern fields hung thick with the smoke of burning coal, and was full of the loud, reverberating exhalations of a steam engine.<p>

The sharply painted steam traction engine "Pride of Ledyard" shuffled slowly across the field, flaunting its large red wheels and brass boiler-bands against the jet black of its cladding, and an uprooted garden shed in tow on a small iron-wheeled trailer. Alex stood atop the machine. It was a wonderful piece of engineering, but compared to Oswald, Ledyard just was not his favorite engine. At least work on the big forty-five ton brute was progressing fast, Alex thought to himself. It was already impossible to tell the old engine had been in a wreck, and it was looking cleaner than it had in years.

Alex looked back at the shed, swaying side to side as it rolling along behind him. He chuckled.

"The crazy things that happen around here." Hardly crazier than what happened to _him_ in everyday life. Just this morning, the cleaning implements in the broom-cupboard had begun arguing over their degree of belonging to the Catholic faith. If there was one thing Alex did not understand, it was religion. He had originally classified it to _Human_ irrationality, but now sees as the cleaning items in the closet had taken up its practice, he would have to reconsider. Perhaps studies in the psychology of instruments of household cleanliness were in order.

* * *

><p>Up came the pointed roof of the house above the trees. As Alex and his engine steamed around the old building, he saw Skips walking toward him. The Pride of Ledyard drew to a hissing halt.<p>

"I see you got the shed, good, good!" Skips addressed Alex, approvingly. "Good work, no damage I see either."

"Got any other work for me boss?" Alex asked, climbing down and uncoupling the carriage.

"Well, just some small stuff here and there that we can use the engine for. Well, small for the engine, it's heavy work without one." Skips replied. "I can ride with you and point out where to go and what needs doing, some of it will need both of us."

"Excellent!" Alex replied, stoking the fire and adding water to the boiler. He then climbed up to the drivers platform and settled himself.

Skips hesitated. "May I come up?" the Yeti asked, courteously, hadn't having been on a steam engine for many, many years.

"Of course, you're the boss!" Alex chuckled in reply.

"Yeah well, technically Benson still is, and I don't like messing around on other people's stuff without their permission." Skips replied, climbing up. "It's nice up here."

"Skips, have you ever run a traction engine before?" Alex asked, in his trademark diplomatic line and extension of friendship when on a steam engine.

"Can't say I have."

"Well, first time for everything if you want to, that there is the throttle, and this is the reversing quadrant..."

* * *

><p>"Nurse?" Benson asked angrily. "Nurse!"<p>

He heard arguing, one of the voices was his nurse. "He's impossible, give him a different nurse I cant deal with it anymore!"

After a few minutes, Benson again petulantly ordered, "Nurse!"

In came a fat old woman who he had never seen before.

"What's all the fuss?" she asked in a decidedly East-side Brooklyn accent.

"Who the hell are you?" the gumball machine asked.

"I'm your new regular nurse, apparently you just scared off Loretta, who was in charge of you until right about now." She replied in a cracked voice.

"Im hungry, that impudent little girl wouldn't let me eat." Benson hissed.

"I know dear, and I do feel for ya, but if we fed you now we'd spurl all the good work Doc' Johnstown has done on you. Don't worry, youll be able to eat soon though."

"I'm still starving!" Benson retorted. He had insisted they take the hoses out of him, just the sight of them had made him want to vomit out whatever remained in his _newly replaced _metal stomach. He wondered if there were any original parts left in him. Still, through the pain, thick bandages and the ravenous hunger, he was beginning to feel like the same old Benson again.

"Here, I want you to try somethin' with me, it works on all my patients." The nurse said.

"Ohhh great." Benson spat. "More therapy, right?"

"Visual, yeah."

"Heh?"

"I want you to picture a big dining room table, with all kinds of empty plates and bowls that are all empty, and I want you to think that you just ate everything in them. Don't picture food in them that'll ruin it."

"Excuse me?"

"Trust me."

Benson did so for a good few seconds.

"I don't see how this is helping!" He caterwauled.

"Is the image stuck in your head?" The nurse asked, smiling through her round-rimmed glasses and gray hair.

"Yes dammit!"

"Bet you aint as hungry no more."

"No Im no..." Benson stopped. He wasn't as hungry. "No...I'm not as hungry anymore."

He turned to the nurse, wide eyed and impressed.

"What's your name?"

"Dorothy."

"Good to meet someone who finally knows what theyre...doing." Benson said, difficultly admitting the turnaround in his thoughts. Dorothy took his hand and shook it, cackling.

"You know I think we're gonna get along just fine."

* * *

><p>The afternoon sun had begun to hang low in the sky. Alex, Skips, and the dauntless Pride of Ledyard had steamrolled and leveled a new dirt path, filled the newly repaired fountain with water, pulled down a tree and then set up a belt-drive sawmill off of the traction engine's flywheel to cut it up, and then hauled out a rotting three-ton tree stump from the bank of the creek. Skips was very impressed to see first hand what the steam engine, only a fourth the size of Oswald, could do.<p>

"Alex, you done very good today, Ill take to Benson about giving you a day's bonus."

"Oh I couldn't." Alex replied. "I had just as much fun as you dude, plus old Ledyard here needed a workout." He patted the hot iron plates of the engine, drawing back his hand as they burned to the touch. "Benson's probably going nuts in that hospital, no need to pester him further."

"True." Skips stated. "But work done is money earned."

"You know, you should be the supervisor!" Alex declared. "You don't have the attitude problem's Benson has."

"Nahh, I'm not cut out for this job." Skips said. "And he doesn't have attitude problems, he just hates his dead-end job. All he does is order us around and try to make this place work right, and gets thrown around like a used tissue by this guy who owns the park, mister Maellard."

"Ahh yes, I've heard of him. The guy with the scrunched up moon for a face, right?"

"Yep that's him."

"That's Rough."

"Yeahp."

"Anyway sir, I must ask for a personal break, I've got to take some time to get back to the workshop and my ongoing projects, Oswald included." Alex said.

"How is that old thing anyway, did she wreck too hard?" Skips asked.

"Ahh well some front end damage, but I built her for knocks, she took it well and in her stride. Besides, I needed a reason to give that old teakettle a general overhaul anyway, she's been in service for eight years now, and a few years back I lend-leased her to a quarrying operation for some money, and boy did they beat her up _there_. Anyway, that's why it's taking so long, im going through every piece systematically with Maksim and the gang."

"Yeah sure, take the rest of the day off." Skips agreed.

"Thanks boss, you do my effort a kind service!"

"Call me skips!" The yeti jokingly chastised him, climbing off the engine. "See you 'round."

"Yes-sir, see you around!"

With that, Alex steamed off.

* * *

><p>"Right!" Alex grinned, teeth bared, as he strode like a madman through the doors of the workshop into a hellfire. His three Russian friends had set up an iron-foundry and forging operation in the cleared aisleway of the workshop. The time of the Old Arts of forging and casting brand new pieces for the engines had come. Sparks and fire flew through the seething, stifling air. Ethereal, deep and booming noises of the white hot coke and metal filtering through the blast furnaces and down the brick-layed sluiceways shook his bones. Everything was eerily half-lit in orange light. Everything heat-intolerant in the workshop had been moved outside. Great chains and hooks which hung from the ceiling now bore the brick-lined buckets which steamed and flamed with glowing liquid iron.<p>

"Where are my friends!" He yelled into the smoke and noise.

Great men in heavy metal masks and heat-jackets stood up, lit in orange. They looked like dignified statues amongst the fire.

Zdes', over here! they replied in unison.

"Forges and furnaces nice and hot?" Alex laughed, sweating in the intense radiant heat of the forges.

"You joke?" Maksim laughed. "Ve are just getting started, come assist us comrade!"

Alex grabbed a shovel and began to stoke the fires as André brought a gigantic, seething bucket of molten iron in overhead heads using the elevated gantry crane.

"C'mon folks, higher flames, we need bigger fires, once more into those fireboxes!"

* * *

><p>Mordecai had just come off shift, and was headed to the workshop to look for Margaret. Rigby, upon hearing this, had skulked off to go and find John. He said he had better things to do than watch the "Birdie makeout hour."<p>

The sun was going down, and a cool wind was whipping over the fields. It greeted Mordecai playfully as it whished through his feathers, gusting and nearly blowing him over.

"Mordecai!"

It was Margaret, jogging towards him across the field.

"Margaret!" He called back, joining her. "What're ya doing out here?"

"I was out around town looking for another job, god they're hard to find."

"Yeah I know what you mean. Speaking of which, I talked to Skips and he's still trying to pull some strings. He says if he has to, before Benson comes back, he will unofficially put you on the payroll."

Margaret hugged him. "You guys are the best."

The lovers began the trudge to the workshop at the edge of the park.

* * *

><p>When they got there, they were surprised and frightened at what they saw.<p>

Every door and window in the gigantic building stood wide open, machinery sat about on the ground around it. From each opening in the giant building, spewed the scarlet, orange and yellow lights of intense fires from within. The back of the building belched a fiery hell into the skies, in columns of fire, black smoke and surging fireballs which drifted high into the sky and lingered, the likes of which Mordecai had never seen before. A deep, ambient rumbling noise filled the air. Chimneys all over the building spewed little jets of flame.

"Oh my god, it's on fire!" Margaret cried.

"All you're stuff's in there, do you know where Alex is?" Mordecai replied.

"When I left, he was in there with Maksim!"

The two avians sprinted down the hill as fast as they could, over the railroad tracks. Drawing close to the building, they were repelled instantly by the intense, unbearable heat. Mordecai looked around. Several machines had been moved outside, the airplane, the traction engine, many of the old cars and carriages, and moveable cabinets full of lamps, lanterns and fragile parts. They all seemed to be undamaged and fine. In through the gaping doorway could be seen the boilers of Oswald and the Indian locomotive, silhouetted by an intense orange firelight behind them.

"Holdon, this is weird!" Mordecai shouted over the deep, pulsating noise from inside. Through the blinding light, the jay could see machines at work. Great wheels turned, chains lifted massive buckets up and down, and the fire which had previously seemed accidental and uncontrolled, revealed itself vomiting out of great bricked constructs. He could make out no damaged structure on the building itself, and more he looked, the more he was sure that the workshop was not burning down.

"I think whatever is going on in there is on purpose!" He shouted to Margaret, walking towards the door, shielding his face from the heat.

"Mordecai, don't go in!" She pleaded, following him after he had gotten a little way from her.

The moment Mordecai crossed the threshold of the doors, he was surrounded by the burning heat of a hellfire. Great brick and stone-lined ladles and buckets hung from the ceiling, being guided slowly about by gigantic iron chains. Red hot metal pieces moved about in the dark, manipulated by unseen hands. All he could see was the light of the glowing hot fires and metal, all else was dark and shadowed. Great wheels on shafts which hung over his head spun around at great speed, turning belt drives and chains.

On a great brick slab which rested on a rolling carriage sitting on the rails in the floor, Mordecai saw a burning red hot piece of forged metal, and a gigantic steam-hammer above pile-driving itself into it. Every time the hammer clanged down, sparks flew everywhere. In the corner of the room, a gigantic and towering blast furnace, which he had only seen cold and tucked behind masses of other machinery prior to this, held rule over the scene. The gigantic mass of brick spewed fire out of every opening, and what looked like a white-hot liquid poured out of several troughs in it's sides and into great steel buckets that appeared to be lined on the inside with concrete. A steam engine, far back in the dark, could be seen hard at work. He felt a heavy gloved hand on his shoulder.

"Mordecai, my good man just in time!" he heard the muffled voice of Alex through the flames and smoke.

"What's going on here?" Mordecai asked, frantically.

"Ahahaha, my boy haven't you ever been to a steel-mill before?" Alex asked, lifting a heavy metal mask with a glass window in it over his face. "This is what this workshop is _really_ meant to do! We are casting and forging new major pieces for our engines, these are the kinds of places where these locomotives are built and born!"

Mordecai's eyes had taken awhile to adjust. He saw Maksim, Andre and Mikhail working hard, stocky Russian silhouettes against fire and smoke which refracted orange light.

"See, we're burning coke in that big blast furnace over there, as well as under the forges!" Alex explained. "We got a rotative beam engine over there pumping on four bellows at once, they force air into the fires to keep everything nice and hot. The boiler is integrated into the side of the blast furnace with water-tubes, that's where the engine gets steam from. See, the coke heats up whatever metal or iron ore we throw in there and melts it into that white hot stuff you see pouring outta that sluice! Now that's pig iron, we cant use that to make everything because its brittle in impure, we turn it into steel by feeding it into a Bessemer-converter, that big metal thing over there!" Alex pointed to a gigantic metal drum suspended between two iron frames. "That thing blows air, again from our bellows, through the molten iron and slag and purifies it into good steel. After we pour it out of there we bring it down through these brick troughs in the floor here, and into the casting pits where it's shaped and whatnot. We can also shape and forge it instead of casting it, that's the better way to make boiler parts, see among other things we got that big trip-hammer over there."

A sudden shower of sparks erupted from the mouth of the blast-furnace and across the room, Alex ducked and pulled Mordecai down with him as the billions of hot balls of light ricocheted off of things and rolled around the floor.

"Hahahahaaa, isn't it beautiful?" Alex asked.

Mordecai had no reply. Margaret was pressed up against the far wall in fear.

"Look, we should have most of this cooled down by tonight, it'll be a bit hot in that room of yours upstairs but I heat-shielded the floor when we built it."

Mordecai carefully stepped over to Margaret, who trembled.

"It's okay, they are making things." He comforted her. "C'mon, let's go somewhere."

"A vot yeshche nekotorye izgoryachii material!" Andre shouted, pulling on a chain which made one of the great buckets tip slightly, molten metal pouring out and into a casting.

"Alexandrovich, bring me more metal!" Maksim shouted over the metallic grinding noise and furnace-roar.

"Comin' right up mister Egorov!" Alex replied, disappearing into the lightbeam filled smoke.

* * *

><p>Mordecai and Margaret strolled up the hill, away from the fiery building of creation.<p>

"That was amazing, I've never seen anything like it." Mordecai said, a far off look in his eyes. He could still see the intense fires right in front of him. "I could...I dunno...write about that."

"That was kinda scary." Margaret admitted. "That kid must be halfway out of his mind to love doing stuff like that, I mean its cool and all, but I could never do it."

"Dude I know, he is out of his mind, that why he so awesome."

* * *

><p>"Alright, everyone-a-gatha-round, and if you donn' like it then a-Shaddup-a-you-face!" Alex called around the table in a rather poor Italian accent.<p>

Everyone had come to the little dinner he and Maksim had sent out invitations to, and found that it wasn't so little after all. The table sat in the middle of the workshop floor, the massive furnace smoking after having been slowly cooled down. The chains hung quiet, the iron glowed and poured no more, the great buckets lay empty and cold, and the fireclouds had gone.

The table was a long one, enough to seat twenty. Those present were Mordecai, Margaret, Rigby, John, Skips, Pops, Muscleman and Highfive Ghost. The display of food that stared the eight of them in the face was overwhelming. Alex had sent away to every restaurant and supermarket, and the Russians had cooked recipes from their homeland on the hot boiler of the bellows engine.

"Bon appetite, dig in." Alex said.

Pyeite, yesh'te! Maksim agreed.

"Well you too!" Margaret insisted.

"Nonsense, I've got to serve the food darnit! What you see on the table is just the appetizers! Now, I believe drinks are in order?" Alex threw a switch on an old looking little rheostat box on the floor.

On one of the sets of small railway track that ran around the table, an old standard-gauge tinplate Ives steam locomotive of yesteryear came buzzing and clattering around, slowly pulling a string of widened flatcars, each of which bore glasses of different wines and champagnes.

Everyone dug in heartily, the food seeming to drown out the worries of the day and previous day. Even Mordecai and Rigby forgot the recent tensions between eachother.

Everyone was enjoying their meal tremendously, talking about the odd, strange and wonderful occurrences over the past couple of weeks. It was on a gesture of how big something was that Muscleman dropped his glass, which shattered and spilled all over the floor.

"Not a problem, Ill go get something to clean that up." Alex said, jovially.

* * *

><p>Far back in the storage room of the workshop, among the dusty collections of machinery, lanterns, cans, boxes, plates and other things stacked and piled precariously atop eachother, a musty, cobwebbed old shelf sat behind a pile of cardboard. On this shelf sat several cleaning tools.<p>

The sponge nervously looked around, and then began to hesitantly speak in a meek, English accented voice.

"Oh dear me mum, I know our job is to serve the young gentleman and look out for 'im as best we can, but I'm sure that young Master Alexander do treat us very rough some times!"

The broom, wearing a pair of half-moon spectacles over the eyes it did not have, and a white priest's collar around it's stick with a black strap and bowtie, replied.

"And so he _should_ young Lucy, for we love it. The complete negation of our personality, the _minndd-_numbing servility, and the eighteen hour day, and we ask for no reward but a shelf over our heads."

"Oh dear yes Lucy, we love it." Agreed the pledge spray can, it's lit flapping up and down as it talked. "Torment and abuse is our lot, and the further back you go the better it was!"

"But...but surely not to the staggering degree that we..." The sponge began to say, but then was cut off by the towel on the shelf below.

"And hark remember young Lucy, that a day shall come when us cleanin' tools shall be freed, when the earth cracks and all the stars in the sky come down to meet us, and until then we must endure the forever-torture of the kind and wise Masters."

The sponge shivered loudly.

Footsteps were heard, stomping through the storage room.

"Now now everyone, the master is coming below stairs to beat us! Not a peep out of you, best behavior or you'll have me to answer to!"

All the present company went silent.

"Aha, that's where I put that sponge!" Alex smiled to himself, picking the sponge off the shelf and leaving the room quickly.

"Poor misguided young one, always putting thoughts of her own welfare before the Master's." the Broom said.

Just then, they heard the far away noises of liquid being wiped up, and glass fragments being pushed aside. They also heard the terrible screaming and screeching of the sponge.

The broom shook with fury. "Hark, she screams for the Master, she does not remain silent!"

"Oh she must be disciplined and punished!" the pledge canister eagerly replied.

"Yes yes, she must be punished." The towel agreed. "The master Returns!"

Alex again stomped in, setting the sponge down on the shelf and leaving.

"Young Lucy, you have broken our Sacred code of silence!" The broom said, sternly. "Such deviations from our doctrine are not tolerated in the room below stairs!"

The stained sponge whimpered in reply, shivering.

"Yes Lucy, you must be punished!" the pledge canister exclaimed, gluing itself to a nearby hammer and picking it up.

"Oh no, no, Aaahhh, no!" The sponge cried as the pledge can took swings, missing almost every time. The broom began to spin around, gyroscopically balancing on the end of it's stick, and flailed around in front of the sponge in what was apparently a very frightening manner.

"Hold her still!" The towel said, climbing up the shelf with a hand-drill in it's clutches.

Unbeknownst to the cleaning tools, Alex watched, completely aghast and nonplussed from the storage room doorway. He slammed the door shut as the sponge's frightened shrieks grew in intensity.

"I've...I've got to get new cleaning supplies! Or...stop drinking that Vodka!" He panted to himself.

* * *

><p>When Alex sat down at the table, most of the entire party burst into laughter, with the exception of Skips, who raised an eyebrow. Alex's expression, which he did not realize he had and that Mordecai would later liken to "that of someone who has seen something wonderful and someone who has seen something enormously scary and not right all rolled into one", was quite hard to miss.<p>

"What haha – what happened in there?" Margaret asked with glee.

"Something...incredibly in-correct." Alex replied, carefully choosing his words.

* * *

><p><strong>Authors Notes &amp; things:<strong>

**Again sorry that chapter took so long, had to interweave all the subplots and stuff so they worked coherently. This chapter could also be considered a mini-crossover with the young ones, just because of the arguing cleaning tools, but thats it really. Hope you enjoyed this chapter, more to come. (And yes I do know where I'm going with the story, so worry not.)**


	12. The Days Pass

**A short filler chapter to mark the passage of time. The timeline spans a few days.**

* * *

><p>"C'mon, in you go now." Dorothy persuaded.<p>

Over the several days the old woman had worked with him, Benson had found his new companion tolerable, annoying and bothersome at times, but shining like gold at other times. This was not one of those times.

Benson hated wheelchairs, he had hated wheelchairs ever since he could remember, to him they were a symbol of invalidity and not being able to take care of ones self.

"I wont do it." Benson complained.

"Dear, we've got to exercise those arms of yours and you cant walk yet, this is the perfect way to do that and get your mobility back!" Dorothy replied. "It's either limited mobility or none at all, and the longer you put this off the longer you're stay will be."

"And just how long IS that?" the gumball machine nearly shouted.

"Not too long if you'd get in this damned chair!" She cackled.

"Rrrgh." He growled, hoisting himself into the old blue wheelchair which smelled of disinfectant. At least they were letting him eat now. As soon as they had told him he could, he had made one of the more gullible nurses roll him, bed and all, down into the cafeteria itself, and annoyed many of the patrons by cleaning out almost the entire place of food. Dorothy had been furious at this and scolded him horribly for the next few days, rationing him to saltines and lemonade.

* * *

><p>"Dammit c'mon!" Alex cussed as the Pride of Ledyard spun its wheels in the sod, trying to get a grip and pull down the old rotten tree.<p>

"I need Oswald back." He thought to himself.

"Yeah when are we gonna have Oswald back?" skips asked, down below.

"Well, repairs are coming along nicely, but theres still a lot to be done, a good few weeks at least, I've got Maksim and company working on it almost round the clock!"

* * *

><p>Margaret wandered down the empty streets of town. It was quite desolate, only a few stragglers from the summer were out. The town was beginning to settle back to its stagnant, dead, monotonous, non-industrious self which it was for three quarters of the year. This was the worst time to be doing what she was doing. Margaret was looking for jobs. It was like people knew what she was doing, as she passed stores, she saw old grey-faced managers removing "help wanted" signs. He resolve was further weakened when a bald-headed young man suddenly flew out the door of a storefront.<p>

"You cant lay me off, I been here for two months!" he screamed at the invisible second person in the doorway.

"Yeah exactly, I said I'd take you on for the summer and the summer only. Come back next year and you _might_ get an opening."

The robin recognized the kindness of the close friends around her, especially Alex and Mordecai, the former who had provided her with a roof over her head when nobody else could, and the latter being there for her always, someone she could love with all her heart and who knew would reciprocate. She was beginning to realize just how much she needed Mordecai, he completed her. He filled the missing pieces which had been knocked out of her throughout life. Her father had always told her to never take anything for granted, and this she had slowly, and eventually _completely_ forgotten, until she had gotten together with Mordecai. She wanted him forever and for always.

Still, on the subject of paying jobs, there was one place the Robin would be sure to check.

She was grateful to Alex, but she liked being self-sufficient, not to an absurd degree for she recognized that everyone needed some help at times, but decently self-sufficient. That and not leeching off another persons resources, which she felt was exactly what she was doing, even though Alex insisted that she wasn't. She had to get back on her own two feet. She could _not_ go and live with her mother again.

Soon, up it came, the big square old storefront and rooftop greenhouses of the flower shop.

"Sandy, you in?" She asked.

"Ahh, hey Margaret!" Said a fair-skinned, brown-eyed and brown-haired twenty-two year old behind the desk. "I was just closin' up, what ya need?"

"Hey sandy, look I know it's a stupid question, especially this time of year, but do you have a position you could hire before? Even if it's just cleaning, I have searched through the _entire_ town, not even Rexford's Bakery will take me."

Sandy immediately looked sad.

"Gee Margaret...I'd love to, you really know I would...but Im real tight on cash, and I'm gonna be closing the place up next month for the winter anyway. Mom just passed the store completely to me and I'm really tryin' to manage the money."

Margaret's face fell. "Oh." She murmured, looking at the floor.

"You sure you checked _everywhere?"_

"Every single place."

"Where the heck have you been living?"

"The steam workshop down at the edge of the park."

"Oh – wait really? I've heard a lot about that place, all my friends tell me all this weird stuff about it, how they see these big machines goin' in and out, and fireballs shooting out the doors and windows, what's going on down there?"

"Oh, theres this young man who runs the place, I should say kid, he's only eighteen, but he acts like he's eighty-nine. He works with steam locomotives and steel furnaces and stuff. It's actually pretty neat, but at times the stuff he does can get pretty out there and a bit scary."

"Hmph, so you left the apartment eh?"

"Yeah."

"That's rough. Look Margie, I really wish I could help ya, but I just cant right now."

"Nah, forget it it's okay."

"You sure?"

"Yeah."

"Alright, well see you!"

"See ya later."

"Bye."

Margaret stepped out into the cold street. Everything had failed, nothing was going to work. She wanted Mordecai, she wanted to see Mordecai.

* * *

><p>"Dude, this Margaret stuff has gotten outta hand." Rigby said. "She's eating up your <em>liiffee.<em>"

"Dude shut it about her!" Mordecai responded, punching Rigby forcibly.

"No!" Rigby replied, in pain. "I wont, she's stealing my best friend away! I always knew this would happen if you got with her!"

"Yeah well for more information, we both agree that we don't see eachother nearly _enough_, and that one of these days we're gonna blow this town, sooner rather than later."

At this, Rigby grew silent, and very angry.

"You're just gonna leave it all behind then huh?" He asked in a strangely calm tone. "So THAT'S what you've been planning to do. I see, I get it now."

"Look, Rigb-"

"STOP TALKING! You go where you want with you're crimson whore, I've had it. That isn't what best friends do to eachother, you either figure that out, or you might as well not even bother."

Mordecai was stung by what Rigby had said about him, but that he could live with. He wouldn't tolerate him talking about _her_ that way. He reached back and did something he had never done before, punched Rigby full-on in the face.

"You don't say stuff like about Margaret anymore, got it?"

The Racoon was sent reeling yards away. He slowly got up, nursed the bruise on his face, and ran away whimpering.

"Oh god, what did I just do." Mordecai asked himself, and kept asking himself that all the way home.

* * *

><p>The two of them stared at eachother across the room.<p>

"Dude c'mon, just go to sleep."

"I would if my FACE didn't hurt!"

"Dude I'm sorry, look we'll figure all this stuff out okay?" Mordecai asked, turning the light off.

"Don't you bet on it." Rigby replied. "You'd better figure out what your priorities are."

Mordecai shoved the pillow over his head.


	13. Light Up The Dark

**Author's Notes:**

**Kind of fitting that this is the thirteenth chapter. Some major, definative happenings here, I will say this is probably one of the most singularly important chapters in the entire story. Took awhile for me to get it right.**

**More than that I shall not say, so read on.**

* * *

><p>It was a simply beautiful evening, the air was cool, calm and dim, and Mordecai was on his way home. It had been a pretty run-of-the-mill day, nothing unusual had happened. Alex did not go on shift that day, and had stayed in the workshop where no'one had seen him.<p>

"Aaahhh." Mordecai stretched his long wings as he strolled up to the lights of the parkland house just across the next field, on the horizon. He could smell something delicious wafting his way, he couldn't wait to get inside. He was expecting Margaret in fifteen minutes or so, and wanted to freshen up for her before they went out to some obscure, as of yet undetermined close-by evening destination to love and enjoy eachother.

Just then, a black shape scuffled across the ground in front of him. Mordecai stopped. Suddenly, the black and silvery sides of a furious little roadside revenue-collecting machine flew right in his face. He felt a tremendous and painful crack, his entire body was filled with searing pain of an intensity which he had never felt before. The bluejay blacked out as he fell.

* * *

><p>Margaret walked quickly towards the lights of the house, the warm, inviting lights which signalled where her beloved Mordecai was. She had dressed herself in her usual flattering attire, she loved making herself all the more enjoyable to him, it was her young, gleeful girlish side coming out, which she did not resist. He was all she thought about the past few days, having seen him every morning and night in a row for four days, and more than that when time allowed. She had all but given up on the job search, the work front was as desolate as the Sahara Desert. Of course she had never seen the Sahara, only in books.<p>

She looked around at the black silhouettes of the treelines, layers of black paper against a deep blue sky full of clouds. The moon was full and on the rise and provided ample light, and in the west the sky still glowed with the fire of the already-set sun.

Margaret loved the night, it was cool and breezy, the wind played about her like millions of little fingers.

The windows of the house shewn golden squares of light down onto the dark ground. In one of these far away squares of light, Margaret's eye was caught by something blue lying on the grass far across the field.

"Mordecai?" She asked. "Tired huh?"

The motionless bluejay didn't answer.

She walked over to him.

"What's the matter?" she chirped.

He didn't answer, he didn't even move. What was preculiar was, he wasn't moving at _all._

Margaret was suddenly filled with a terrible, loathsome fear.

"Mordecai?" She asked, now genuinely scared. She rolled him over. His eyes were wide open, and his beak hung slightly ajar. He was cold, deathly cold.

"He couldn't be."

Margaret felt his wrists, and then his chest.

There was no heartbeat.

"He couldn't be, this was impossible."

She frantically pressed her head to his, not a single noise, no breathing.

"Mordecai...No...Mordecai..." Margaret's voice quavered. "You cant go away...you just cant..."

Her eyes welled up with tears, how had this happened? How in the whole wide world had something this sudden and cruel had occurred? She wiped her eyes, telling herself it was a bad dream, building up a defense-wall which crumbled faster than she could make it.

Margaret was suddenly filled with the urge to run, and she did so. She ran away from the now foreboding lights of the house, stumbling incoherently through the darkness of the night and of her mind. Mordecai was dead, undoubtedly and unquestionably dead, she had seen death before, right in front of her, and this was it. He couldn't be dead, he loved her too much, she loved him too much for him to be dead. It was impossible, theyre love was a force so strong it was supposed to ensure that things of this nature could not happen. Margaret's entire world was crumbling down around her. She ran on, sobbing bitterly. She could not, would not live without Mordecai.

* * *

><p>Rigby scuffled out of the house. It was late, past the time when Mordecai usually arrived. Although they had had a fight, Rigby still regarded the bluejay as his best friend, and wanted to know where he was. He easily spotted his friend's blue and white body across the field, in a dim square of light made by the bright lamps through the big square kitchen windows in the back of house.<p>

"What the heck is he doing over there, and why is he lying down?"

* * *

><p>Skips chuckled as he got his sixth consecutive horse-shoe around the rusted old iron stake in the beaten up sand. He was better at this than he remembered. He played his solitary game in the dark, away from people and distractions. The house glowed with a far off, kind light. He would retire soon enough, but for now he needed to keep his aim sharp, exercise his mind and coordination.<p>

He was rudely interrupted by a loud, intense, desperate scream, which threw him quite off.

"SSSSKKKKKIIIIIIPPPPSSS!" he heard the voice of Rigby pierce the night air.

The seventh horse shoe helicoptered off into the dark woods.

"Dammit Rigby, you made me mi-" Skips was cut off by the raccoon scampering up and literally flinging himself at the yeti.

Rigby latched onto skip's face with hot tears in his eyes.

"Skips, Mordecai's DEAD, he's _DEAD!" _He screeched pitifully.

It took a few moments even for skip's powerhouse of a mind to register what had been said.

"You're joking." Skips said, flatly, peeling Rigby off his face, who flailed his arms and legs. It was hard to take Rigby seriously in _anything_ he said, and yet, skips had never seen him distraught to _this_ degree. He looked almost rabid.

"WHY WOULD I JOKE ABOUT SOMETHING LIKE THAT! COME WITH ME ILL SHOW YOU!"

Rigby scampered off into the darkness, crying openly.

Skips shook his head. The distress and sincerity in the Raccoon's voice could not be ignored, something wasn't right here, in fact something was very, very wrong.

Skips broke into a run, easily keeping up with Rigby, who sprinted on all four paws.

Across the road and past the house, and into a dim square of light made by the kitchen window.

There lay Mordecai, as Rigby had said, appearing quite dead indeed.

The iron-willed, vastly experienced and seemingly, even to himself, rock-hardened man that was Skips, gasped in disbelief. How would something like this happen? Rigby appeared right, skips saw no sign of life force in the bluejay, even before he stooped to check his pulse.

"How, why, whyyyy!" Rigby screeched into the night air, collapsing and running his hands down his face. "Things like this aren't supposed to happen!"

To the Raccoon's utter shock and horror, Skips began to laugh, and laugh heartily.

"WHY ARE YOU LAUGHING!" Rigby death-shrieked. "STOP IIITT!"

Skips still laughed.

Rigby just stood aghast, and even moreso at what Skips said next.

"Mordecai isn't dead!" The yeti chuckled. "No, he looks it, but I've seen this before, a thousand times."

"WHAT?" Rigby asked, not lowering his voice.

"Take it easy, he aint dead I can tell you that."

"HE HAS NO HEARTBEAT."

"I know, all the symptoms, like I said I've seen it before."

"What's IT?"

Skips lowered his eyebrows menacingly.

"Paarrrkkiiinngg Meeetteerr."

Rigby shook his head. Skips, the most solid and logical fellow in the state, had lost his mind.

"Your friend here was attacked by a parking meter." Skips continued. "I seen it many a time, and luckily for you I know a cure. He isn't dead yet but he will be soon if you don't do _exactly_ as I say."

Even if Skips had lost it, Rigby's impulsiveness for once came in handy, for if there was anything, _anything_ he could do to save Mordecai, he would try it.

"Listen Rigby." Skips said. "Don't talk, don't jabber, I am going to ask you a series of questions about things we need, and you either say yes, or you say no. Got it?"

Rigby nodded.

"Okay, do you have a steel-toed boot?"

"I...I don't..."

"Yes or no, answer no if you aren't sure."

"No."

"That's okay I think I've got one. Do you have a grapefruit?"

"Yes."

"Good, what about a coat hangar, any kind of coat-hangar or metal wire?"

"Yes, yes lots of coat hangars."

"I don't care how many as long as you have one, okay I know where we can get a boot, the last thing we need is a grenade, but I've got a few."

Rigby's eyes widened. Skips really HAD lost it.

"Rigby, if we're gonna save Mordecai, go get me all those things you know you have as _fast as you can._" Skips said. "The grapefruit and the coathangar, and if possible get me the biggest, fattest and largest grapefruit you can find. When you've got them, come back here."

* * *

><p>Rigby looted the house, throwing drawers across the room and opening closets, sweeping out their contents. Luckily Benson was not there to scream at or hinder him. He had to save Mordecai, he would save Mordecai even if he had to destroy the entire house. Muscleman, seeing this, joined in the fun, destroying things in no particular order or reason. For once, a different thought about Muscleman ran through Rigby's head.<p>

"That idiot."

Eventually, the Raccoon found what he was looking for, and as the door seemed to long a route, he opened the kitchen window overlooking the field and catapulted himself out of it, coathangar and grapefruit in hand.

"Alright, quick quick _quick_ now, good job gettin' that stuff Rigby." Skips praised him curtly. "Now, do exactly as I say."

Skips lifted up a big steel-toed boot, a hand-drill and the early-ripe pineapple-shape of a vicious looking little military grenade.

Rigby stepped back a bit in fear.

"Relax, this is one of those new ones with the safety handle." Skips said. "Take that boot and drill a hole in it's toe with this."

Rigby did so, drilling so fast he couldn't bore a straight hole. The drill chuck slammed into the toe as the bit punched through.

"Good, feed one end of this coathangar through the hole until it comes out the leg of the boot!" Skips ordered.

Skips had straightened out the coathangar with one pull.

Rigby frantically fed it through the hole until one end of it protruded from the hole and the other end protruded from the leg of the boot.

"Hold it steady, don't let it fall through." Skips said through clenched teeth, bending a hook shape in one end of the steel wire with his fingers with absolute ease, and attaching the hook to the pin and handle of the grenade.

"Now, let go."

Rigby did so.

Skips carefully stuffed the grenade into the boot, the wire protruding farther and farther out the hole, until he had it more or less jammed in the toe of the boot.

"Okay, good." Skips said, nodding in intense approval. "Now, take that grapefruit and stuff it in the big end of the boot."

Rigby squashed the grapefruit inside as hard as he could.

"Now stand back, I'm gonna pull this wire and it's gonna act as a firing mechanism!"

To Rigby's horror, Skips pointed the leg of the boot directly at Mordecai's face.

"Run dammit!" Skips ordered, pulling the wire as hard as he could. A loud, metallic "Ching" could be heard from inside the boot.

Skips sprinted hard, catching up Rigby and moving him along at great speed, finally rolling to a stop a hundred yards away.

The boot fired out the grapefruit like a cannon with a tremendous boom and the equivalent of a bright orange muzzle-flare. The grapefruit disintegrated and filled the air with a purple mist and a cloud of fragments, which Mordecai's body disappeared into.

"I just hope it worked, that explosive charge was way smaller than what I usually use to cure that." Skips replied, grimly.

As the smoke cleared, Rigby ran towards Mordecai, still lying in the same position.

The awful stench of explosive propellant and grapefruit juice filled the air.

Rigby teared up and Skips smiled as Mordecai began panting.

"Aww...ack...dude, what _happened?_" The bluejay asked, rubbing his eyes. "I feel so weird..."

Rigby latched onto him.

"Dude get off!" Mordecai coughed, throwing the Racoon off him. "The heck is going on here? Skips what are you doing here?"

"You got attacked by a parking meter." Skips replied. "It's a good thing we found you when we did."

"A...parking meter?" Mordecai asked, the slightest bit of fear in his voice, a short recollection returning to him. "Yeah I guess I was...but how long was I unconscious?"

"You weren't unconscious, you were dead." Skips replied. "Or, dead in the sense as in death from a parking meter attack that's a bit different." The yeti corrected himself.

Mordecai gaped. "Dead?"

Rigby turned to Skips in awe.

"How the heck did you KNOW?" He asked.

Skips laughed. "I used to be a doctor in bygone days, when I was little younger and a little more naïve."

The thought of skips being naïve eluded the both of them.

"Yeah, see I was a doctor, in New York City, and one month we started getting all these strange pedestrian deaths. One night I was out with the PD, and we saw this parking meter just fly through the air and hit this guy, not a real hard hit, but he fell down absolutely stone dead, that's how I figured out how it happened. Those parking meters are fowl little beings, more evil in them then I've seen in most things either animate or inanimate. I found the _cure_ in a very different manner, and completely by accident. It's grapefruit, pulverized and propelled at great speed, and I'm talking the kind of speeds only explosives can make."

"How the hell did you _find_ the cure?" Mordecai asked.

"You don't wanna know." Skips replied, very seriously.

They all began laughing, and Rigby embraced his friend again, who this time did not repel him as quickly.

"Oh, ohh duude!" Mordecai suddenly realized. "Margaret was gonna meet me here, what time is it?"

"A little past nine." Skips replied, of course not having to look at any sort of timepiece.

"Oh no, she's been and gone!" Mordecai replied. "I hope she knows im alright now, wait no she couldn't, what if she..."

"What if she saw you dead?" Skips finished Mordecai's sentence.

Instantly, the cogs began turning in the Yeti's mind, and he looked far off into space. He caught a whiff of Margaret's perfume lingering in the air, and realized it was coming from Mordecai, he saw the scuffle of footprints around where the bluejay had lay and instantly deciphered them into those of Mordecai, the skidmark of the parking meter, the footsteps of himself and Rigby, and those of the identical-to-Mordecai's but slightly smaller feet of the Robin. He delved into Margaret's thought processes, how seeing her lover dead would effect her, especially after the bond he had previously noted had been formed and strengthened. the wise Skips suddenly came to a horrifying conclusion, he turned it over and over again in his mind.

"Mordecai, this is very bad." Skips said, wide-eyed, still looking off into space. "She's been here, she's seen you dead, or I should say, as you _appeared_ dead."

"She's what?" Mordecai asked in horror. "How do you know?"

"Among other things, her perfume is all over you."

Mordecai, taking in a long inhalation, realized the yeti was absolutely right.

"Mordecai, this aint good, you know how I know a lot of things, and you trust me right?"

Mordecai nodded un-questioningly.

"We have to find Margaret, _now._" Skips stated. "If we don't, the consequences of her seeing you dead, if I'm right...and I _am_...are too great to allow. Mordecai, I need you to tell me where Margaret would go, and I mean in a really _bad_ state of mind."

Mordecai couldn't think straight. His mind was still boggled from the attack, and the danger that Skips warned of.

"She'd uh...well...where she's living now I guess, let's check the workshop!" the bluejay said quickly.

"Run." Skips said, sprinting off. Mordecai and Rigby followed.

* * *

><p>"Mordecai, I'm really sorry about everything, I didn't realize just how sorry until I thought you were dead!" Rigby shouted, panting. "You've got a life to live just like I do, I see that now, I was a damn idiot!"<p>

"I really appreciate it dude, but not now, I've gotta find Margaret!" Mordecai replied, out of breath. "Hey skips, why are you so worried? What do you think she's gonna do!"

It wasn't what skips _thought_ Margaret was going to do, it was what he _knew_ she would do. He read her, as he did many people, like an open book. He was hesitant about telling Mordecai, for it might send him into a frenzy, and then he would be no help at all. The yeti remained silent as he ran.

* * *

><p>"Alex, Alex you home?" Skips shouted up at the workshop.<p>

A Russian man greeted them from one of the high, lit windows and disappeared inside. All the windows were lit in a glorious golden light.

In no time, the big door in the front of the building slid open with a deep metallic groan, revealing a well-lit work session of welding and hammering going on inside.

"Hello my fine fellows, come in, come in!" Alex greeted them.

"Alex we cant, we have a big problem, is Margaret in? Did she arrive here?" Skips asked.

"Well, she was here a couple hours ago, but she sure isn't in now!" Alex replied. "Why do you ask sir?"

Skips quickly related a short and concise version of the parking meter causing Mordecai's apparent death, his revival, and the situation regarding Margaret.

"Oh my that is rather grim, Mordo I'm glad you're okay!" Alex replied.

"Mordecai, I need you to think hard, where would Margaret go."

"To do what?" Mordecai asked, furiously.

"Yes sir skips, what is the urgency?" Alex asked.

Skips shook his head and sighed frustratedly.

"To Kill herself. Where would Margaret go to kill herself?" He asked.

Mordecai's face turned to that of utter shock, and then to something worse.

Alex's face was filled with the fury and energy of a hundred years of industrial power channeled through his lanky, mis-shapen body.

"Where would she go to WHAT?" he bellowed, his face scrunching up.

Mordecai was completely aghast, even moreso knowing that everything Skips said was always right, always came true. He knew beyond any shadow of a doubt.

Mordecai's beak parted quietly, a single thought creeping into his mind.

"She'd go to the dam..." He mumbled.

"What?" Skips asked.

"The dam." Mordecai repeated, staring off into the evening sky.

"The old damn by _Crossford gates_?" Alex asked loudly and purposefully.

"That's the only dam in the district." Skips said. "That dam Mordecai? The big water-control dam?"

Mordecai just nodded.

"MAKSIM!" Alex shrieked. "Stop what your doing and get Andre and Mikhail to help me prepare the airplane, we've got an emergency the likes of which is time sensitive!"

"Dah!" Maksim replied from inside shutting off his welding torch. The Russian sensed the urgency in his friend's voice.

"Tovarishchi Sushchestvuetchrezvychainoe polozhenie, pomogite mne pomoch nashim drugom!" Maksim bellowed into the workshop.

"Dah!" both of his compatriots saluted, dropping their work and shutting down the big welding power supplies.

"Mordecai hop in the front seat!" Alex shouted, wheeling the biplane over by it's tail. "Maksim my friend, fetch the searchlights, every single lightsource this plane can carry!"

* * *

><p>Maksim and Andre had attatched several score acetylene and propane-burning directed-beam lanterns and powerful electric lights with heavy batteries to the airplane, slinging the batteries beneath Alex's seat. Skips also clung to the side of the airframe.<p>

"Hope she lifts with all this weight!" Alex shouted, throttling up the roaring engine. The lights shined intense beams of gold and searing white off into the darkness. The big old biplane surged forwards, leapt, alighted, and then struggled into the air.

* * *

><p>Margaret sat beneath the dam on the little ledge above the water. She had torn the clothes she had put on specially for Mordecai off, she shivered, cold, wet and naked beneath the great structure. The water poured down from the spillways, creating that surreal watery-walled tunnel. There was no joy, no beauty in it now. the world had gone dark for her with the loss of her loved one. She was solidly convinced now that the things she loved most were the things that the universe was bent on taking away. Just when she had found something to cling to, he had been inexplicably dashed from her grip, which she thought had been tight as to defeat all circumstance, but in reality was weaker than the pathetic hold of a paperclip on a sheet of wet paper. Among all others, this was a psychological blow. She could not even hold herself to something that she truly loved with all her heart. Her father, her lover, her jobs, the very things that kept her going and made her who she was. Without Mordecai, everything would return to the way it was, only worse. She would never again travel the beautiful countryside, never again see the little twinkling lights upon the horizon.<p>

_She would never see the ocean._

On her way over, Margaret had made one stop. It was a short one, at the garden tool shed, where she had found a small and quite miscellaneous blade. She wanted to sleep now, and never wake up again into this horrid world which at first looked so beautiful, and then, when her back was turned, took it all away. She willed the little pair of grass sheers, sharp, rusty and proudly engraved "_Northfield Lawn Cutlery & Associates_", to take her away forever into a place in the dark, where she could cry for her lost loved ones. Wether there was an afterlife she did not know, but she did know enough not to expect one. She would soon find out. Maybe, if the great motions of the universe would allow, she would get to see her loved ones again, as they appeared in life, as _she_ remembered them. She hoped, she prayed, and took the little blade, intended by the managers of _Northfield Lawn Cutlery & Associates_ for a very different purpose, and pressed it to her wrist. There would be no last second save, no turnaround, there was no misunderstanding. She had seen Mordecai dead, as dead as the stones under the water beneath her feet.

As if in defiant reply to her thoughts, the blade and water around her flickered with an intense light.

* * *

><p>"Is that her?" Alex asked over the scream of the engine, catching the slightest hint of scarlet between the concrete and frothing waterfalls of the dam in the beams of the intense lights.<p>

Mordecai had seen it through a pair of brass binoculars, the scarlet feathers, and the metallic glint of an evil little blade.

"Alex, take me down!"

* * *

><p>Skips shook off the hard landing of his fall, he had dropped himself from a height of nearly sixty feet as the plane passed over the dam, and landed with a hard thud on the rocky earth adjacent to it. Luckily, several high falls had taught him how to properly land and absorb the impact by bending his knees. He sprinted atop the big concrete structure and flung himself upon the rusted old hand wheel, as big around as he was tall. With some effort, he began to turn it, in turn working several rusted-up worms and pinions under the iron grate beneath his feet, neglected and un-used for years, which, he fervently hoped, were still attatched to the spillway gates.<p>

* * *

><p>Margaret hesitated on putting pressure on the blade. A bright light was moving through the air, now refracting through the waterfalls of the dam. Suddenly, the constant and loud roar of the water began to get softer. The waterfalls tumbling down from above her head began to wane and cease, something she had never seen before. The lights, many of them, all of great intensity and grouped together in a flying mass, seemed to turn around and careen back towards her as the water stopped. The dam wall was lit up in gold and white as the object, which in her eyesight quickly gained discernable features such as wings and landing struts, grew closer, frighteningly closer.<p>

* * *

><p>"Alright Mordecai, drop lights are green, off with the sole member of the Karnes airborne division! <em>Jump! Jump! Jump!<em>" Alex screamed.

Mordecai, without a second thought, did so, spreading his wings and soaring off into the searchlight-cut dimness.

* * *

><p>Margaret's beak parted as she saw something she tried to refuse to see, but could not.<p>

A blue-winged angel soared out of the twilight towards her, through the air, a with a familiar, kind and handsome face, very much full of life.

Mordecai careened down through the air, knocking the grass sheers out of her hand as he passed. Margaret desperately, reflexivley reached for him and caught his legs as he fell, dragging her down with him into the splashing water.

As they both came to the surface, Margaret, in complete in-comprehension, clutched at him desperately.

"Mordecai, Mordecai don't let me fall!" She cried, her eyes shut, reliving several distant, awful memories at once. "Don't let go!"

Mordecai held her very close and dragged the distraught Robin through the water and out onto the shore. The airplane circled above.

They were both soaked through and through as Mordecai layed down with her in the tall grass of the shore. The loud roar resumed as an unseen Skips re-opened the floodgates on the dam, having received an equally invisible signal from the airplane, which was again just a group of lights circling in the sky.

Margaret wept hard, harder than all the other times.

"Mordecai, _I want you back!_" She cried fervently, still not quite accepting that he was here in front of her. She wept into his white feathers, bitterly, holding onto him like a security blanket.

"I'm here, everything's alright, everything is going to be alright." He said, smothering her in his grasp. "I am never gonna go away, and neither are you."

* * *

><p><strong>Yeah...so that was that. More to come soon. <strong>


	14. A Day of Love, a Day of War

**Just a short chapter to pass the time and act as a filler, I had great fun writing this one.**

* * *

><p>Light filtered in through the heavy blinds over the paned window and onto the deep brown of the oaken coffers on the walls. It was dim and cool, wonderfully fresh air from the large ventilation wheel in the workshop below wafted up through the old cast iron vents in the floor. The gaslights were cold, dark and devoid of flame. Mordecai and Margaret sat up in the comfortable bed, holding eachother tightly. He ran his hands all about her, and she stirred whenever he hit a sweet spot.<p>

"I love you so much." Margaret whispered.

Mordecai held her tighter in reply, she rounded out all over him, giggling at the sensation. Mordecai had learned to stop restraining the hard blushes that came whenever they touched intimately.

Nobody would come looking for them. Skips had graciously and understandingly given Mordecai the next four days off on account of "personal tragedy." Alex, equally as understandingly, had made as many excuses for he and his compatriots to be away from the workshop in that amount of time, or for doing quiet and minimal work as he could. Presently, the three industrious men and their younger, equally industrious colleague were out on a important errand.

It had been a day and a half since they're horrible ordeal of near loss, since then, they had retreated to the little room above the workshop where nobody would find or disturb them, and loved eachother, loved eachother as if each second was their last. This was their way of coping with almost losing eachother, and not just the near loss, but the way in which it almost happened, completely by misunderstanding and circumstances that in all other cases would be quite hilarious. They re-iterated this to eachother over and over again, verbally and physically.

"Margaret, promise me, even if I do get taken away somehow, you wont do that." Mordecai whispered.

"Only if you promise me you wont get taken away." She cooed.

"I promise, but I'm just saying if the worse did happen, you have a whole life to live, you cant go cutting it short like that."

"I cant live without you, I need you."

"I need you too, but just promise."

"I promise."

"I love you."

"I love you too, you promise you wont go anywhere."

"I won't."

Filled with the sheer joy of being secure and together, she laughed and clumsily somersaulted herself over him, bouncing when she returned to the mattress, and then being re-entrapped in Mordecai's wings.

"Com'ere you."

He pulled her under the covers and drew the blanketing up all the way, all around them.

"Aaahhh..." her voice trailed off. "I wish I could stay here forever, just like this."

"Let's."

* * *

><p>The morning sun shewn down upon the dewy grass. Several birds took flight from the trees as the ground began to rumble. Over the green hills came a gigantic, black, hulking, roaring Russian T-90 tank. It crawled its way down the hill at great speed, its tracks pummeling the ground as the machine of war went on its uneven, rocking way. The tank's gigantic cannonbarrell snout protruded menacingly and nosed from side to side as the big machine steered around small obstacles, emitting loud engine noise, electrical whine and metallic screeches. Alex stuck his head out of the hatch as the red-star clad war machine drew to a stop, its immense turret swiveling around.<p>

"See anything comrade?" Maksim asked from his position below on the steering levers.

Alex presently had a gigantic pair of brass-sided binoculars glued to his face, he looked around intently, operating the turret-swivel control below with his foot.

"Not...yyeetttt..." he said, tentatively.

"Keep searching, can't be too far." Maksim replied, optimistically. "Why don't you try using thermal imaging site?"

"Nahh, them meters don't give off heat from what skips tells me, that's the annoying part, you can't catch 'em with all that neat Russian infra-red of ours."

As he said this, he caught site of the petulant little glass face and time indication needle of the meter leering out at him from behind the bush.

"Aha, Maksim holdon I have a contact, bearing...err let me see...two-five-five degrees! Your left!"

"Dah!" Maksim replied, moving the steering sticks. The gigantic tank of the very last of the proud soviet era swung itself around, Alex keeping the turret pointed towards his target.

"I need you in turret as gunner!" Maksim ordered.

Alex descended and battened down his hatch. He found himself immersed in a tight space with controls and displays on every available surface, and the breech of the gigantic one-hundred and twenty-five millimeter main gun next to him.

"Loading nine-M-one-one-nine-M Refleks missle!" Alex reported, setting up the automatic loading system. A gigantic mechanical linkage and carousel along side him whirred to life and fed a threatening looking rocket body into the breech of the cannon.

"Let me just get the range..." Alex calibrated the laser-rangefinder. "Looks like the little bastard's out about a hundred and fifty meters, I'm setting up the rocket...ready?"

"Ready!" Maksim replied. "Strelyai, ogon'!"

"Firing round!" Alex lifted the safety latch over and then depressed a large red button, labeled "огнем".

The cannon roared as the missle left its muzzle. A little fireball with a white smoke-trail streaked across the field.

"Missle has achieved norm..." Alex was cut off as the projectile exploded in a showering cloud of fire, smoke and debris.

"Did ve get it?" Maksim asked.

"I'm not...quite...sure." Alex scrunched up his eyebrows over the square view-finder. He switched between daytime and night view.

"Ack, no!" he suddenly exclaimed, exceedingly frustrated. "It's still alive, the damn thing's still going, it's running around!"

Maksim looked through his viewfinder and saw the little black box, on fire, hurtling at great speed across the field.

"Loading high-explosive FRAG round!" Alex exclaimed hurriedly, reactivating the automatic loader and loading a large red-tipped shell into the cannon.

"Shoot!" Maksim replied from down in the darkness.

Alex slowly swiveled the turret in line with the fiendish little meter.

He shot, this time instead of a missle, there was an actual round in the cannon. The tank shook with the tremendous boom, rocking back and forth as the snout of the cannon erupted in a gigantic fireball. The parking meter, and all the ground around it abruptly exploded upwards in a cloud of flame, sod, dirt and rock.

"Got him!" Maksim laughed.

"No...no we didn't." Alex replied, aghast, as the smoke cleared.

In the crater, the size of a poor man's swimmingpool, sat a writhing and smoldering parking meter.

"This isn't working." Alex said, chuckling in utter disbelief.

"Time for plan B?" Maksim asked.

"Time for plan B!" Alex replied, climbing back out the hatch with a large gun in his hand. He pointed it's wide barrel at the sky and fired, an intense flare screamed upwards into the sky and exploded in a cloud of red fire and smoke.

Maksim laughed as he heard the deep jet-turbine whine and hammering of rotorblades.

Alex turned around and laughed too, as the MI-28N variant attack helicopter slowly rose up from behind the hill, beating the air furiously with its five-bladed rotor, Andre and Mikhail in it's two cockpits.

Alex waved them on, and the big helicopter shrieked over the tank, armed to the teeth with Russian rockets, missiles, guns and other various assortments of lovely propelled explosive devices. Mikhail apparently had quite the trigger finger, for the aircraft suddenly unloaded its _entire_ payload more or less at the little black meter, which was crawling away across the field. The helicopter vomited such an array of smoke and fire that it almost completely obscured itself, armament after armament screaming away and tearing up the ground.

After there was nothing left to fire from the tremendous aircraft, Andre set it down squarely on it's wheels on the grass and shut down the engines, the frantic beating of the rotors began to slow.

"I guess it really wasn't dead the first time I found it!" Alex laughed.

Maksim climbed out of the tank with Alex, and they were just about to toast eachother when there was a terrific and high-pitched screaming from across the field. It was, of course, the parking meter, dented, smoldering even moreso, and quite angry. It dithered towards them across the field.

"Damnit you guys, haven't you ever heard of overkill?" Skips asked, pulling up in a golfcart. "There's only one way to kill a parking meter, Mordecai figured it out for me."

With that, skips floored the golfcart and ran clean over the parking meter before it could reach Alex or Maksim. It died in painful spasms and shrieks.

"Mordecai found out completely by accident when he took you on that trip around town." Skips said to Alex. "I've gotta thank him for figuring that out."

"But...but he didn't...but..." Alex said, despairingly, looking between the twelve-hundred horsepower armored Russian tank, the twin engine attack helicopter, and the golfcart.

Maksim was furious, as were Andre and Mikhail, who promptly came stomping up.

"Inferior imperialist recreational machine!" They all said in unison, staring loathingly at the small white vehicle.

"Well at least it's dead now." Alex said.

"EEAAAUUUGGHHCCKKK!" death-rattled the parking meter underneath the cart.

The Russians dragged out what was left of the little black box and set about delivery of a coup de gras with several hammers which they did not seem to have just seconds before. When they had finished, several hundred coins littered the ground among the gears and springs, Alex eagerly sifted through them.

* * *

><p>Mordecai and Margaret worked themselves to the point of sweet release for a fourth time, falling down on eachother in wonderful exhaustion.<p>

"Why is it that I cant get enough?" He asked her, to which she responded with a silent laugh.

They lay there in the dimness of the blinded windows.

Outside, the faint noise of a helicopter grew louder and louder until it seemed to settle next to the building itself, and then die away in a low whine and the slow churning of rotor blades. A large engine could also be heard idling outside, and then shutting down. They heard the large door far beneath them open, and the distinct voices of Alex, Maksim, Andre and Mikhail singing a Russian ballad of victory echoed below, dragging on and ending in hearty, somewhat drunken laughter.

"More Vodka for the champions, drink your heads off!" Maksim roared, muffled by the floorboards. "The meter ees dead!"

"But we didn't manage to do anything!" Alex disagreed.

"Yes, but ve had much fun doing it!" Andre laughed.

There was the noise of thin liquid bubbling out of a glass bottle, and hearty cheers and agreements all around as mugs were slammed on the table.

"And best part is, we don't have to return Mil-tventy-eight airborne weapons platform helicopter for one whole week!" Mikhail stated through his drink and the floor.

"You had best keep that thing grounded." Alex replied.

Mordecai and Margaret were too lost in their own laughter to hear any more. It was simply too strange and wonderful a dialogue to restrain mirth over, and it welled up inside them and escaped through their beaks. It seemed things could not get more wonderful and golden than this.

They were proven wrong when they heard Mikhail exclaim;

"Oh how cute, six little..." – A sharp glass-shattering noise – "_FIVE_ little glass figurines!"

Another acute glass breakage noise.

"The shame of it, ohh the _shame_ of it!" They heard Alex reply, audibly smacking his forehead.

The two lovers laughed so hard they each thought the other would surely burst.


	15. Coupon Clippings

"Mikhail?"

"Yes Andre?"

"I miss home country."

"Agreed, do not worry we shall return soon, and zen vashyeĭ Materi can cook us up some of that delicious red meat."

"When do you think dat vill be?"

"When young Tovarsch Alexandrovich has completed repairs on Indiĭskiĭ parovozy."

"Well zhen we had better work our heads off, as good children of zhe Motherland must do."

"You must get those old ideas out of your head, ees new Era tovarsch, wether we like or no."

"Those old ideas are all I have left of old Russia."

* * *

><p>"C'mon, fit!" Alex worked furiously at the old staybolt. This was one of the last replacement bolts in the newly replaced throat plate of the Indian YP, and it was refusing to go in. He had to make it work, he just had to. It was his job to make these machines work again, failure was not an option, or yet an experience for the young engineer. Looking over to the half-dismantled traction engine, that familiar feeling of overwhelming took hold. He hammered harder on the torqueing device around the bolt.<p>

"Need help tovarsch?" Maksim asked from behind him.

"I think this is cross-threading." Alex replied frustratedly. "I don't know why though, I just turned it on the lathe."

Maksim spotted the problem in an instant.

"Thread pitch goes wrong way!"

Alex looked, aghast, at his own incorrect machining. The threads were left-handed.

"But...but...I..."

"Looks like you are slipping up!" Maksim laughed.

Alex did not laugh. He _was_ slipping up.

"Maybe...maybe I need a rest..."

"Bahaha, I re-turn correct new bolt." Maksim replied, patting his young friend on the back and inadvertently sending him sprawling.

"Ah, Izvineniya!

"That's...okay." Alex mumbled, face down.

* * *

><p>Benson laughed and laughed as Dorothy sprinted behind him. His wheelchair careened down the hallways of the hospital, people dodging out of the way.<p>

"Having fun down there?" The old woman cackled. They had both been having an exceedingly boring day, and Dorothy had asked her bedridden metallic friend if he was up for a race around the hospital. He didn't know it was a race against the lunch-rush. She could run much faster than the gumball machine had thought, she was strong, and she pushed the chair down the halls and deftly around corners at blinding speed.

"If we're lucky, they wont have run out of Stroganov!" She panted.

"This is the most fun I've ever had!" Benson whooped.

* * *

><p>"Aw COME ON!" screamed green-skinned Mitch Sorenstein, destroying the pyramid of cups. "How could you beat me at <em>that,<em> you've only got _one hand!_"

The white spectre laughed and laughed. "You know who ELSE has one hand?"

Mitch narrowed his eyes. He would kill him if he wasn't already dead.

* * *

><p>If he was not mistaken, this was the theatre manager who had tossed his blue-feathered friend out of the theatre. Mordecai had brought it up in a casual remark, not meaning to start anything, but Alex had been infuriated at the treatment he and his lover had received.<p>

"Excuse me?" The young engineer asked. The old woman he had addressed spun around on her high heels.

"Yessss?" She hissed.

"I do believe I am the _CHEF_." Alex replied.

"Pardon m...Ooffmm, mffmf!"

At that moment, Alex picked up the immense black boot he was holding and shoved it, unceremoniously, down upon and over the woman's head, stuffing her head and neck neatly inside it.

"Mffmfm! Mmmfmfmfmm!" She screamed angrily, taking off across the street in no particular direction. The boot prevented her from seeing the Lincoln Continental which, seconds later, had set itself upon her and ran her completely over with a sickening crunch.

"Good heavens not again!" Alex and the driver exclaimed in unison, the former quickly stepping off down the street, and breaking into a run when he was far enough away.

* * *

><p>"You okay?" Skips asked. He nodded, satisfied at the reply through the receiver. The gumball machine that was his friend and supervisor sounded much better, even over the telephone.<p>

"Ahaha, that's great, glad you got a good one." The yeti said in reply to Bensons' short and muffled tales of Dorothy and the sprint down the hallway. "And you say you'll be back next week? Even better. Things were getting _weird_ around here."

* * *

><p>"You <em>mean it?<em>" Rigby asked, drooling.

"Yeah I mean it." John grinned. "Business is really picking up, people around here seem to really love shooting at eachother."

"Ill take the job!" Rigby screamed, bro-fisting his friend.

* * *

><p>"Say it!" Mordecai laughed.<p>

"N – Ahahaha, no, no!" Margaret responded, trying to escape from his grasp.

"Say it!" he moved his quick-moving feathers to her stomach.  
>"N-Unc-Uncle!" She squeaked, her voice raising several octaves. "Uncle!"<p>

Mordecai stopped tickling her. "You disappoint me, I thought you'd go longer!"

"You know I can't take it!" Margaret panted.

"Oh I don't believe that!" Mordecai resumed.

The two lovers played like children in the grassy field.

* * *

><p>The Naïve man from Lolliland stared, absolutely captivated and mesmerized, by the small model steam locomotive that chuffed it's way around the oval of brass track.<p>

In a brief encounter with Alex, which had resulted in the lollipop-man and the misshapen young boy heatedly discussing their love of trains, the latter had leant him a four-thousand dollar eighty-year-old live steam locomotive, a Midland Railways eight-wheeler, and a matching set of brass coaches, as well as a loop of track "to return whenever he felt like it." The deep red and black little steam train feverishly rounded the loop of track for the two-hundredth time, Pops stopped it to add water to its tiny boiler.

* * *

><p><strong>Authors Notes:<strong>

**Hence the name "Coupon clippings", this is nothing more than a small series of "Regular Life" clippings and snippets which I felt the story needed. The following chapters will be normal length.**


	16. Reparations

The river churned with high water from three days worth of rain. The storms still came in spurts, little on and off showers before the sky cleared again and the painted trees glowed in all their splendor. The entire countryside was that of golds, searing reds, oranges, syrup-browns and the more dull earthen tones of the less flirtatious trees and flora. Chill and welcome winds whipped across the land, cool but not too cold, gracious to any living being who was out and about.

A certain talking gumball machine, enjoying the feel of his newly-repaired limbs and insides, walked over the field. In an odd way, he already missed his friend, advisor, scolder, transporter, compatriot, companion and sometimes partner in mischief that was his nurse, Dorothy. Being with her for the past month had taught him how to be a child again, something he had lost many, many years ago and had sub-consciously been trying to recapture since that time. He also couldn't wait to see his employees, and not just skips, but _all_ of them. He missed them all profusely, which he could not explain to himself.

"Funny how you change when you almost die." He thought to himself. He had heard of some profound changes in people's personas after near-death experiences, and was always sure that if he himself experienced one, such a clichéd thing would not happen. He now recognized what was meant by these profound changes. He felt like the same old Benson, still stuck hopelessly with a dead-end job with powerful figures towering over him in the world of finance and influence, but it seemed to matter just a little less now. Life was fragile, and yet he still possessed it. Life was wonderful, and he intended now to enjoy it. He would take the opportunity to change it for the better if and when it came, for now he would live it enjoyably.

* * *

><p>"Attention everyone." Skips addressed "his" workforce, after today to be his no more. "I have some good news for you all."<p>

"Yeah?" Mordecai asked.

"Benson is coming back to us today, and he will take back his rightful and stressful place as groundskeeping supervisor."

"Sounds good." Mordecai nodded.

"Cool." Muscle-man agreed, Highfive Ghost nodded.

"Dammit!" Rigby exclaimed, promptly being punched by Mordecai.

"He should be here soo..."

Skips was cut off by Benson, coming around the house.

"Hey guys."

"Heyyy Benson." They all replied in unison, some more enthusiastically than others.

"How you doin?" Mordecai asked.

Benson surprised them all with a gigantic grin. "Never better. Looks like this place has been kept in order while I've been gone."

"Yeah, I've had them keeping up with the work as I saw fit, the place hasn't given us too much trouble." Skips said.

"That's a first." Benson replied. "Good work at any rate, all of you."

"Anyway, Alex wanted me to bring you down to the workshop to show you something before you assigned us all today's work, he wanted all of us to come down actually." Skips said.

"Love to." Benson replied, not a trace of sarcasm in his voice. "Go fetch a golfcart and we'll head on over there."

Skips trudged off to do so.

"Hey uh...Benson...yeah I'd like to ap...apologize for them um...accident..." Muscleman began.

"Apology accepted. Look, we all try stupid things, I did something like it not too long ago on a wheelchair. You just cant do it with other people's equipment, let alone wreck it." Benson replied understandingly, but firmly.

"Here's the cart boss." Skips waved from the little white box on wheels. Benson, Highfive Ghost, Mordecai, Rigby, and Muscleman all boarded. The little carriage started its journey down the dirt roads of the park.

* * *

><p>When the odd little crew drew up in front of the great corrugated walls of the workshop, there was nobody around waiting for them, and all the doors were shut. Smoke poured out a large square chimney in the roof.<p>

"That's weird." Skips remarked, disboarding the golfcart.

"Oni zdes', otkrytye vhodnye dveri!" came a muffled shout from inside.

The main door began to slide open with a metallic screech and groan, huge clouds of steam pouring forth from the open doorway as it did. Back in the darkness and through the white clouds, they could make out several shining lights pointing at them.

As the door drew fully open, out slowly crawled a machine that was very familiar, but almost unrecognizable. The rusted metal of the smokebox had been cleaned and painted with a glossy jet-black paint, as was the stack. The smokebox doors were new as well, the old dogged drop-hatch door had been replaced with a sleeker fully circular design with a slight dome to it, an elegant british hand-latch assembly in it's middle. The boiler and cylinder claddings no longer were coated with rust and grime, instead being cladded in a shimmering, reflective midnight-blue with shining brass bands. The cylinder covers were polished and burnished steel. The great wheels and flywheels had been painted with the same beautiful midnight-blue paint, as was the newly repaired crane-boom. The running gear, transmission and drive gears atop the engine were all painted in a lovely contrasting dark red inside black frames. Not a speck of rust was visible anywhere on the great engine, and the nameplate had been polished.

In the reflection of the sun, it blindingly read; "OSWALD" in golden-bronze letters against a dark red backface. It was the same engine _physically_, but in countenance, one would never recognize the previously dirty, leaky, shaky beast-of-burden that was Oswald. Even the top of the immense stack was crowned in shining copper.

"My friends!" Alex addressed the park crew from atop the high driving platform, the splintered wood of which had been replaced with finished, rosy hardwood.

"I present to you one repaired traction engine!"

They all cheered, even Benson looked impressed.

"I've gotta hand it to you, I didn't see it after the...accident...but that is a fine piece of work." The gumball machine stated.

"And now she will return to the workforce with renewed ghusto!" Alex replied, patting his hand on the same hot part he always burned himself on, this time was no exception, he recoiled quickly.

"Great, this means things will get a whole lot easier again." Mordecai said, sighing. It would be easier for now, anyway.

"When do we tell 'em?" Rigby asked.

"Later, much later." Mordecai replied.

"So what's today's work, boss?" Alex asked Benson. They all awaited the gumball machine's long list.

"Work?" Benson asked. "You're all out of your minds! Look around you, it's a beautiful Autumn's day, the likes of which I haven't seen...or taken the time to see – in many a long year, why waste it? I'm giving you all the day off, do what you please at your leisure and leave me the hell out of it!" He laughed.

Everyone stared at him.

"Who are you and what have you done with our boss?" Muscleman asked.

This was answered with by a tremendous cheer from all those present. Mordecai, Rigby, Skips, Muscleman and Highfive Ghost all lifted Benson high into the air and sang.

"_For he's a jolly good fellow, _

_for he's a jolly good fel-low,_

_for he's a jolly good fe-hellooowww_

_and so say all of us!_

_And so say all of us!_

_And so say all of us!_

_For he's a jolly good fellow_

_For he's a jolly good feeelll-ow_

_For he's a jolly good fe-hel-loooww_

_Which nobody can dennyyy!"_

Alex blew a long note on Oswald's deep whistle in agreeance, the sound of which had not changed at all, despite the shining polish-job that had been done on its brass chime.

The Russian men joyfully and importantly talked amongst themselves of the great effort, and how the engine they had toiled for so long over shewn in the sunlight, laughing over minor discrepancies which they thought they could have further improved, this valvehandle being the wrong size or that washout-plug nut not being tightened a half-turn to match the rest of them.

"Mordecai, Mordecai!" Margaret came running out of the workshop.

Mordecai received her in his arms.

"Isn't it wonderful, what they've done?" She asked, looking at the gigantic, seething monster which shined like new.

"It's better than that." Mordecai replied. "It's magic, it's pure magic what they do in there."

"Come on up, there's room enough for everyone!" Alex shouted.

The whole crew, not excluding the three Russians, clambored up on and all over the big steam engine. Alex put the great machine in gear and started off with much hissing and noise, over the grassy fields.

* * *

><p>Out in the middle of a large, sprawling field of soft gold barleycorn, a Raccoon and a Bluejay lay in the grass, looking up at the deep, featureless bowl of the sky.<p>

"I'm sorry I was pissed man, I just was caught a little off guard when you told me." Rigby said.

"No man I completely understand." Mordecai replied. "I should have been more tactful, it _would_ piss off anybodies best friend."

"That's right, best friend." Rigby said with a grin. "And don't you forget it."

"Yeah man, I won't."

"So when are you planning on...well...doing it?"

"I dunno. The sooner the better, I hope you can understand why..."

"Nahh man, I totally get it. On to bigger and better things, I've always wondered what it's like out there, but unlike you I've been afraid, afraid of what might be out there."

"Wonderful...wonderful things." Mordecai's voice trailed off. "I have seen the smallest taste of what is out there, beautiful countryside in rolling hills, hills that don't belong to parks, don't belong to anybody. Huge cities, bigger than anything you or I could imagine before, wonderful people. Don't be afraid Rigby."

"I'll work on it." Rigby said, mesmerized. "I've taken the first step though, John offered me a job in the paintball shop, and I'm _gonna_ take it."

"He did? Aw sick man!"

The two friends, _best_ friends, fisted eachother, just like the old days.

"Yeah it's gonna be awesome, he said he's making so much money he can just hire me whenever. I get to do all sorts of stuff, I can work the register and run the store when he's out, and the best part is I get to help him _test_ stuff."

"Coolll beans man, cool beans."

"Ohhhhh!" They both shouted at the air, quickly running out of breath.

"It's funny, doing that tires me out more now." Rigby said, patting his chest.

"Yeah...me too." Mordecai replied.

"Still, we got some time, why not? Just for old times sake?"

Mordecai was silent for a moment. He then picked up a twig.

"You're powers are _weak_, Lord Flatulent!"

* * *

><p>"So, what's your real name anyway?" Alex asked the green-skinned man.<p>

"Mitch...Mitch Sorenstein." Muscleman replied, uncomfortably. He stared at the whirling cranks and gears, arrays of levers, handles, valves and gauges in front of him. The last time he had seen these things was under quite different pretences, and it brought back bad memories.

"And Highfive Ghost?" Alex asked.

"No that's his real name." Muscleman laughed.

"Well Mitch, how'd you like me to teach you how to _really_ drive this thing?"

After spending a moment in thought, Mitch replied.

"Hell yeah!"

"Well what did you learn from your little past experience?"

"Well...uhh...this lever controlled how much power it made or something...and this one made steam come out from that big thing up there, and this wheel steered it."

"Yep, that first one is the throttle, here put your hand on that." Alex replied, directing Muscleman's green hand onto the large red lever in the center. "That second one controls the cylinder-cocks, they drain condensate from the cylinders, see originally they just vented out up top but now I've got them feeding into pipes which drain out on the bottom of the boiler, and of course that big cast iron wheel there is the steering wheel. Now I believe you'll be wanting to know where the _brakes_ are."

Muscleman nodded rapidly. "It _has_ those?"

Alex laughed and laughed.

"Yes-sir, screw-on brakes, it's the big wheel right underneath the steering wheel." Alex pointed to one of the other wheels below the first one. "Tighten it up clockwise to apply, counter-clockwise to release. They'll stop you _very quickly_."

"Glad to hear that." Muscleman nervously replied.

"Now, that big lever over there is the Johnson-bar, you point that in the direction you want to run and you adjust the valve-timing with it when you get going really fast, all these levers over here are the drive-clutches and transmission-gear changers. Don't mess with those when the crankshaft is turning or else the whole gearbox will have a heart-attack." Alex continued. "And don't stop her too short, or else all the water in this big ol' boiler will come off the crownsheet, and if that happens things can get extraordinarily _bad_."

"What kinda bad?" Muscleman asked.

"_Boom_." Alex replied.

Mitch began to realize what a dangerous and powerful machine the traction engine could really be.

"Now don't worry about that though, that only happens if the water level is really low, which it will never be if your _fireman_ down there is a good one!" Alex shouted down jokingly to skips, who he had been teaching how to properly fire boilers.

"It's just bad practice to stop short is all. Gentle, easy movements."

Muscleman grasped the controls firmly. The engine was easier to control than he had once thought. He could feel it's powerful beats up his arms.

"Now see how much nicer it runs when you aren't destroying stuff?" Alex asked.

"Not as much fun, but yeah." The green man replied, chuckling.

* * *

><p><strong>Well, that's it and that's all for the more minor chapters. The next few will be the next and last major part of the story, which I shant reveal the nature of quite yet. You also wont be seeing updates for the next few days, I am going on a trip and writing-hiatus to New Hampshire where I will be working with my native iron and steel friends, the steam locomotives, and hopefully collecting some antique steam and telegraphy equipment.<strong>

**Until the next update, cordially yours**

**LeninWerke**


	17. Horizon Line

**Sorry for the long wait, got back from a long trip!**

**Well here we are, home stretch, last few chapters coming up with some last serious developments. On the with story and enjoy!**

* * *

><p>It was a glorious day. Alex chuffed briskly down one of the dirt park roads on his dauntless, newly repaired traction engine Oswald. The breeze was strong and the sun peaked out from behind large white clouds which provided welcome shade from the intense light. The great engine slowly rocked from side to side, Alex feeling every pebble in the road. He ran with the great lanterns all over the engine lit and burning, even though it was broad daylight, Alex enjoyed running with lights on, especially since most of the old lamps were much older than the steam engine itself.<p>

In the middle of the road, something caught his eye. It was a very small object, fluttering about. What had made Alex notice it was it's color, a blend of orange speckled with white and flaring yellow stripes. Alex had learned to notice little things, partly from his nature and partly from experience. He brought the steam engine to a gentle, hissing stop and slowly dismounted the great machine.

It was a baby bird, scarcely a fledgling.

"Oh now this wont do at all." Alex shook his head, picking up the small bird, which begged to him for food by fluttering its wings and crying at him.

"This wont do at all." He muttered, looking around. He could see no nests and no mother bird. If the nest was in one of the higher trees, he would have no luck getting the little one back home. He was not much of a climber save for upon rocky coastlines or up the scaffolding of building construction.

"Well come with me you cant stay here." Alex said gently, putting the little bird in his vest pocket, where it could poke it's head out. "I've got a book on birds somewhere and I'm sure your in it, I'll find out what you eat and make you some of whatever that may be."

Alex could already just picture himself regurgitating bits and pieces of earthworm and insects all over the table for an eager little fledgling. When he pictured Maksim doing it, he nearly fell off the engine ladder laughing.

* * *

><p>Mordecai sat in the back of the workshop, looking over the old machinery. The boiler of the Indian locomotive sat up on crudely blocked stands, a gigantic barrel with a flared boxy back end, bolts and crowned holes protruding from it on every side. It's hollow front end was pointed towards him, revealing the complex pattern of large holes in its frontplate, still devoid of their fluepipes. Today was the big day, and he was nervous. Could he really do it? <em>Should<em> he really do it? Was it the time to throw it all away and begin again? Was there ever a time to do such a thing?

He was brought out of his intense self-questioning by a clanging noise. Alex had knocked over some iron barstock as he had opened the door, and responded with many explatives and interesting declarations of hatred.

"Ahh, Mordecai my fine fellow!" Alex greeted the bluejay, noticing him. "Do pardon my French, I hope I didn't just bend these nice straight pieces of three-o-four...anyway, what's up?"

"Hey Alex, hey can I talk to you?" Mordecai asked.

"Of course, say you look a bit glum!" Alex replied, pulling up an old ruined chair and sitting down in it.

"Yeah I am, today's the day I make a run for it." Mordecai stated.

"Make a run for it?"

"Yeah. I've got dreams, Margaret's got dreams, and that wonderful little taste of the world outside this town that your friend Demond gave us just wasn't enough. It wet my appetite, seeing what was out there, I had no idea what I was missing every day."

"Yeah there is a big hunk of world out there that is better than this sorry old place."

"Why are you here anyway?"

"Well, that's a funny story. Needed to make some money to help with Stargazer's construction and Wanderer's overhaul, and me and my pals here had just about fixed everything within a two-hundred mile radius of my town, so we just set out looking for a place to set down. This isn't the best place, but it suits my current needs for business and that's all it suits. Once I am finished, I'll pack up operations here and me and the Soviet brigade here will head on home."

"When do you think that'll be?"

"Ohh I've got a bit more time to spend here, a half-year, maybe a year at most. Besides, I kind of like this park job I've got in a weird way, it's simple and it's a nice break from what I usually do. Mind you I wont stay here just because of it, but it will be nice while it lasts before I have to depart."

"I see."

"So you're saying your planning on leaving town?"

"That's right. And I'm taking Margaret with me."

"Does she know?"

"No, I'm going to surprise her. She's had no luck finding a job here, and she is living in the workshop, so the way I see it she has no more attachments to this place."

"I see, you sure she'll want to leave?"

"When I tell her what my plans are, I'm almost certain. See, Margaret wants to see the Ocean, she's never seen it before, heck neither have I even. I want to take her to some place by the Sea and start a business, something simple, a little shop maybe. Margaret's always dreamt of being a dancer, a professional one, I was thinking I would help her open a dance studio once we got enough money."

"And you haven't told her all this?"

"Nope."

"It's really sweet, I'm sure she'll be thrilled. And good on you mate, the Sea is a wonderful thing, my home town is on the coast. There is nothing half so much as good as being by the Sea, in fact I find myself sorely missing it here inland, I feel something isn't right when I get too far from it. I've always been an easterly sort of fellow who loves water. You say you've _never_ even _seen_ it? My god man what you have been missing!"

"Yeah, I gotta tell Benson I'm gonna quit, along with Riggs, your friend John offered him a job in the airsoft shop."

"That he did, and it's a good idea too."

"Yeah, I'm just worried about how Benson's gonna react, and just when we're on good terms with him."

"Oh I wouldn't worry." Alex chuckled.

"That, and I gotta do some other things too, to get ready." Mordecai got up. "See you man, gotta do this now or I'll never get out of here."

"Mordecai sir, wait up a sec."

"Yeah?"

"I take it the last thing you do before you leave will be to fetch Margaret?"

"Yeah."

"Please stop by here before you do, I have a couple things for you which you might find useful on your trip."

"Okay man."

"See you."

"Seeya."

* * *

><p>Mordecai and Rigby peered out from behind their bush. In all the time they had spent as employees, they had <em>never<em> thought this day would come. Benson was working busily, trying to repair and leaking spigot.

"Ready dude?" Mordecai asked quietly.

"Ready." Rigby responded. They quickly withdrew themselves out from behind the bush while Benson was turned away, to make it look like they had just arrived, and slowly walked toward him.

"Hey umm...Benson? Can we talk to you?" The bluejay said, reflexively putting his wing behind his head.

"Oh hey there, what's going on guys?" Benson asked.

"Well Benson...see...let me just give it to you straight. You've always given it to me straight...not like that's a bad thing of course." He checked himself nervously. "Look, I've made a decision, haven't told anyone about it until today, but I want to see whats over the hills, you know, whats beyond this park and this town, I want to go and seek my opportunities. I'm going to be leaving town today...for good...so I wanted to ask...well – tell you..." Mordecai stuttered.

"Benson we quit." Rigby finished for him.

Mordecai _glared_ at the Raccoon, expecting a tongue-lashing from the gumball machine.

None came.

"So that day has come eh?" Benson asked, not the slightest tone of anger or malice in his voice. "To tell you the truth I was expecting it."

"You...were?" Mordecai asked.

"Yeah, and I must say I like your _reason_ for doing it, it makes me proud to hear you aren't quitting because you hate the job, but because you have a chance to improve yourself. I, like you, am waiting for a chance to do that."

"So you aren't mad?"

"Heck no. Mordecai I must say...over the year, heck in the past few _weeks_ even, you've grown up a lot."

"And me?" Rigby asked.

"Not so much you, no." Benson said, frankly. "What are _you_ quitting for?"

"I was offered a job at the airsoft shop." Rigby replied.

Benson laughed. "Ahahaha, I can _totally_ picture you working at that place, it's the perfect job for you, really it is. Well I'm happy for you Rigby. Would you guys like me to compile references?"

"No thanks man." Rigby said.

"I don't think I need them either." Mordecai agreed.

"Oh c'mon, I wouldn't write all kinds of awful crap in them about you." Benson replied.

"No I know, it's just Id like to make a fresh start, put everything behind me and clean the slate, you know?" Mordecai asked.

Benson nodded. "I guess so, well I'll go compute your wages then and give you what I owe you."

"Thanks Benson." Mordecai and Rigby chorused.

"Yeah...dont mention it." Benson replied, walking away.

This felt weird. It felt good, but weird. He never really could picture Mordecai and Rigby quitting, he supposed a childish side of himself had assumed they would work in the park forever with him as their supervisor. It was interesting, at least the problem of over-staffing was solved, and Alex with his steam engines, when his efforts didn't backfire, was as good as having a ten-man engineer corps around. Still, an odd feeling filled the red painted cylinder of the gumball machine as he walked into the old house.

* * *

><p>Mordecai strolled into the imposing brick-faced edifice. Over it's vaulted doorway read; "REDSTONE TRIANGLE BANK" in large embossed letters.<p>

In through the doors he went. Inside many little cubicles off to the side were old men and non-effeminate women busily having quiet telephone conversations on old telephones. Upon several old desks crowned with vintage brass lamps, clerks solemnly fingered through bills and wrote long strings of identification numbers on papers regarding accounts and whatnot.

Mordecai kept going until he came to a high counter, polished steel cage bars between him and the despondent looking clerk behind them.

"Can I help you?"

"Yes, my name is Mordecai, and I would like to withdraw my entire savings account please."

At this the clerk's eyes widened, and she immediately got up and went to go fetch someone. She shortly returned with a younger man with slicked back hair.

"Can I see some identification?" He asked.

"Sure." Mordecai replied, passing his wallet through the small opening in the cage bars.

"Will you be terminating your accounts altogether?"

"Yes, I will be." Mordecai replied. "I'm withdrawing all I have, and I need to be out of here by today, could you tell me what that totals up to?"

"Don't work like that, we got a lot of paperwork to do."

"Then just give me all the money and we wont bother closing the account."

"That – wont be necessary, just let me calculate the full withdrawal and closure penalties." The clerk hissed, typing on an ancient computer keyboard.

* * *

><p>"Hey Rigby." Mordecai tapped his friend on the back, walking up behind him.<p>

Rigby whirled.

"This is like...the last time ill see you in awhile so...uh..."

Rigby's face went red and he ran to Mordecai in a pathetic embrace. The jay was willing to tolerate it this time.

"Visit." Rigby said, petulantly.

"Yeah, you know you can come visit too...once I figure out where I'm going."

* * *

><p>Mordecai walked down the street, taking one last good look at the old town he had been forced to call home for so many years. The four-and-a-half thousand dollars weighed heavily in his backpack. He had never had so much money on his possession before, never, it was an odd feeling. He was tired, he felt like he was shuffling off some stifling old sweater he had worn for twenty three years. The rest of his journey passed him by in a dark blur of sickeningly familiar lamp-posts, trees, storefronts, cracked pavement and storm drain lids, the likes of which he had seen thousands of times before.<p>

Up he came to the workshop on the other side of the railroad tracks, those railroad tracks which had showed him what lay beyond the horizon line, that had convinced him to take this monumental, floundering step into the unknown.

Into the gaping mouth of the workshop door and into the cool, serine dimness filled with the brassy glints of great wheels, rods, armatures, cylinders, lenses, frames and trusses.

There sat Alex on a stool next to some obscure old piece of engineering from long ago, designed for a purpose which the bluejay could not figure out. Alex was playing a haunting tune on a small concertina, which resonated throughout the dim, cozy air of the workshop. It plodded slowly on in an even tempo until Alex finished the tune in a long minor note.

"I like that piece, what's it called?" Mordecai asked, startling Alex, who had his eyes shut.

"Ah, hello Mordo, that piece is one of my favorites, it's called the Dreadnought Tea Clipper, about a very old ship. I find it good for dark caves and lonely cold nights when the trees are threadbare." Alex replied.

"Cool."

"Anyway, take care of that business you needed?"

"Yeah, and I came back here like you said."

"Excellent, then Mordecai, my friend, I have some things to pass on to you. Come this way if you would."

Mordecai followed Alex far back into the workshop. Further back than he had ever been before, into corners that the old shop did not seem to have previously. In fact, judging by the building's external appearance and size, Mordecai reckoned that the distance they traveled through the darkness was impossible without ending up outside the walls. Alex stopped in a place hallowed by unrecognizable pieces of great, looming machinery, all blending in with a dark dusty color with the background. He stood at a gigantic cabinet full of old kerosene lamps and lanterns, much like those that sat about and provided illumination for the rest of the building, only covered in dust.

"Mordecai did I ever talk to you about lanterns?" Alex asked, raising an eyebrow.

"No." Mordecai replied, stifling a chuckle. Alex had been talking to him about quite a lot of things as of late.

"Oh, wonderful and beautiful things, lanterns are." Alex continued. "I've been collecting them since I was very young, all started with this rusted up old carriage lamp in a Bed and Breakfast where I used to stay, and it just took off from there. Like the rest of my equipment, I'm what you call an _operator_-collector, meaning each one of these lanterns, no matter how valuable and priceless in the antique or museum community, is operational, filled with kerosene and ready to work at any time."

Mordecai nodded.

"Here's the thing, lanterns provide the pure and whole light of fire, the best kind of light there is, the same light and heat of the earth that courses through my steam engines. Lanterns were the first way that people harnessed the light of fire and made it their own, they are the _old_ lights. Each time I light one it's like I am communing with the ancestry of light itself, as well as all the people who conceived and manufactured each unique design. Some of these little things are fantastic little feats of engineering and craftsmanship. They talk to me, whenever I light a lantern I can see every dark corner it has shined light into, every person it has served, every life it has saved. I like to think that inside each lantern is a little guiding spirit that only works for the good of whoever holds it."

Alex reached up and drew down a blackened old lamp with a blood red lens.

"This one served in the trenches of the first world war, and was held by a lowly lieutenant. It saved him from tripping over an unexploded shell."

He replaced it and drew down another, a box-shaped thing with four big round lenses of red and turquoise on all four sides and a large cylindrical chimney.

"This was used by a switcherman to stop a train from careening over a collapsed bridge, it saved over two hundred lives."

He took down another, a bellbottomed lantern painted a deep scarlet, covered in dust. Inside was a ruby red lens, grooved on it's top and bottom.

"This here is an old Raymond and Sons utility lantern, generally used as an auxiliary lighthouse beacon. I don't know it's history that well, but it sure is beautiful when it's lit. See, it has a Fresnel lens, a real nice one too. Fresnel is the type of lens with those grooves in it, see they act like prisms and magnify the light."

Alex handed the old lamp to Mordecai, he felt the oil inside slosh quietly, its sides were damp with kerosene. As Mordecai held it, Alex dusted it off with his handkerchief.

"This one is yours now, take it with you on your journeys, wherever you may go, whenever you are unsure what you will find, light it up. Take it with you to every dark corner which needs light shed on it."

Mordecai was genuinely touched.

"Th-thanks – Alex." He said, hesitantly.

"Here, let me show you how it's meant to be seen." Alex replied, flipping open the chimney of the lantern with a deft movement of his hand. He withdrew a small lighter from his pocket, sank it down inside the workings of the lamp and lit a tiny wick in a complex burner. He quickly withdrew the lighter, shut the chimney and adjusted a small knob protruding from the side of the lantern.

A beautiful scarlet glow filled the room, a ring of light from the focal-point of the Fresnel lens glinting off of the walls and their two bodies, the reflection from Alex's belt-buckle blinded him. The lantern shined much more brightly than Mordecai expected it would.

"Here, come with me, that wasn't all I have for you."

Mordecai followed Alex back out of the dark, the way they had come, the old lantern cradled in his wings, burning brightly. They were soon back in the main workspace of the shop, cranes hung here and there, the Indian steam locomotive still lay in pieces in different stages of refurbishment. The young engineer stepped over to the row of old automobiles. There sat the immaculate red and silver Doble steamcar which had whisked he and Margaret away on their first date. Next to it sat several more equally old and slightly more modern cars, all steamers.

"Mordecai, trust a fellow traveler, even if you took a train to every interchange, you'd blow that entire life savings of yours on tickets and fares before you ever got to where you're headed. I love trips, and I know that on any trip you'll need something all your own to get you exactly where you want to go. You ever owned a car Mordecai?"

Mordecai stopped right where he was, speechless at what his friend was implying.

"N – no...no." Mordecai stammered.

"Well then there's a first time for everything. Sorry but all I have for you are steam-driven cars and old clunkers, will that be a problem?" Alex replied.

"No...no, I can't...you can't just..."

"What's the matter, you can't drive a steamcar? Actually no scratch that, you wont find steam oil anywhere besides this workshop...I know. Mordecai you can drive a stick right?"

As Mordecai stared, beak agape, Alex strolled over to the end of the line of cars to an old olive-green automobile.

"This here is a lovely old nineteen-twenty-seven Lincoln limousine, me and Maksim got it at a yard sale for thirteen bucks! Of course it was missing its wheels...and any part of the engine that wasn't the block...but we fixed it up. Funnily enough, after the trial runs we gave it we haven't used it much since, the steamers get all my attention you see."

"But I...I...You're giving me a..."

"You what?"

Mordecai was too bewildered to think straight.

"I – I cant drive stick!" The Bluejay blurted out, remembering the incident with mister Maellard's limousine.

"Aha, no problem, this thing only has three speeds, mind you the transmission is wayyy before Synchromesh so you gotta be careful. I'll teach you how to drive it for a bit, you seem like a quick learner."

"I...I gotta sit down for a minute."

"Yes please do, at that table, I have one last thing for you."

Mordecai covered his reddening face, he could not conceive of Alex giving him any more, for all he knew the next gift would be an office building sitting outside somehow, or a gigantic cannon.

"Ahhh yes, here it is." Alex exclaimed in triumph, slapping a piece of paper down on the table.

"This here is a little interstate map, still good after twenty years."

Mordecai looked at the faded, sprawling, fold-creased sheet of paper. It showed a spider webbing network of highways on a detailed map of the eastern half of the united states.

"Now Mordecai, many years ago I took a trip I never will forget, and I made sure to document it so I could always find my way back. I am going to give you a little bit of advice."

Mordecai tilted his head. "And what's that?"

In reply, Alex withdrew a small red marker from his pocket. Searching the map for a few seconds, he set the marker tip down squarely and began to draw a line. Upwards first along a state route, and then to a large yellow line which ran all the way across the map. Alex slid the marker neatly down the line, tracing all the way throughout its curves and intersections until the map turned cerulean blue.

"That's my advice, I would consider it if I were you."

"What, is that a route to take or something?"

"Good things happen on route eighty-eight East." Alex said, tapping the back end of the marker at the end of the line he had drawn.

"Come now." He said to the befuddled, bewildered and nonplussed Mordecai. "Let's see if you can drive that car."

* * *

><p>Since Benson had come back, Margaret had again been forced to look for jobs. Her temporary employment at the park as a favor had ended when Skips resigned his position as supervisor to the convalescent Benson.<p>

She strolled down the road through the middle of town. Before, she had seen a time of going into a deep sleep for the town, now she saw a time of complete death and silence. Not a soul was out, nothing but the litter and debris of a hectic, violent summer. It was getting on towards late afternoon. She was startled by the abrupt ringing from her pocket. She had used her cellphone so little the past few weeks, she almost had forgotten its existence.

"Hello?" She asked into the little gray rectangle.

"Hey babe...uhh listen, where are you?" came the voice of her significant other.

"I'm on Main street, why?" She asked.

"Good – It's...I'll explain it when I get there. Just have to find you."

"Okay...bye." Margaret hung up the phone. She detected an odd note in Mordecai's voice, it was like a mishmash of nervousness, amazement and discomfort. It worried her.

Up at the far end of the street which Margaret had her back to, the noise of a solitary car could be heard.

It was only when the noise of the motor grew close did Margaret turn around. Up clattered an ancient car, four olive green wire wheels supporting a long, enclosed olive green and black car body, fronted with a big square grill and two immense brass headlamps. Mordecai sat in the drivers seat, leaning out the window and waving to her as the automobile rolled to a stop.

"Mordecai, where did you...Alex?" She asked, bewildered.

"Alex." Mordecai replied. "Hop in, It's time I take you somewhere."

"Where?" Margaret asked.

"The Ocean." Mordecai smiled, holding up the tattered old map. "Hop in and I'll tell you everything."

Margaret understood fully, seeing the suitcases and her own belongings in the backseats. Her eyes filled up with tears as she walked around the car to climb in.


	18. Memoria

The ninety year old car glided smoothly down the road, riding just as easily as any auto of modern times. Mordecai marveled at the restoration job that had been done, everything from main drive components to upholstery and paneling to the little brass rims around the dashboard gauges. Margaret was completely stunned, and rapidly vocalized her admiration of the car and the excitement of the trip.

"I can't believe it, we're actually going for it?" She asked, turning to him.

"Yeah. Alex says that a vision without a plan is just a dream, so I made a plan. You with me?"

She kissed him. "Of course I am."

"Good, then we shall go to the horizon, and over it."

"So what's on this map?" Margaret asked.

"I dunno, it's a route Alex suggested I follow. When I asked him where it goes, he just told me that I would find out, and he kept going on about this wonderful interstate eighty-eight. He said just follow that all the way until the map turns blue, and we should find what we're looking for." Mordecai replied.

"Good enough for me." She laughed.

"He also told me, although destinations are good things, that...as he said it, it's got to be the _going_ and _not_ the getting there that's _good._"

Margaret thought about it for awhile.

"I like the sentiment." She eventually responded.

Past the outskirts of the town the two companions rolled, they both looked back one last time at the plain, dysfunctional little town they had both called home for so many years.

"I'm not sorry to see it go, are you?" Margaret asked.

"Nope, and it probably isn't sorry to see _us_ go anyway."

Margaret suddenly remembered something.

"Hey...Mordecai?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you think we could stop in just one place before we really get out on the road?"

"Of course, where?"

"I – I want to visit my old house...where my father died..." She stuttered, memories welling up. "Just to say a last goodbye you know? I'll probably never see it again."

"Of course you can." Mordecai responded, empathetically. "Where is it?"

"It's just in the next town over, I'll show you how to get there."

* * *

><p>Margaret eagerly pointed out road signs, telling Mordecai to turn left or right, like a child finding her way to a familiar place. Mordecai quickly found out that the old car's lack of turn-signals would prove difficult to manage, and hand-signalled out the window at each corner.<p>

"This is it...wait...is it? yeah, number six-eleven...what the heck happened...is this it?" Margaret's joyful tone quickly changed to that of anguish. Mordecai brought the car to a stop in front of an old dilapidated house, which was in the process of falling in on itself. Boards were hammered up on the windows, and a large red sign on the door read in large, imposing letters; "CONDEMNED BY ORDER OF CITY COUNCIL, NO TRESPASSING."

It had once been a very nice house, with a large roofed-over porch and many dormers on it's roof. the beautiful trellising all around it was now overgrown and being pulled down by vines.

"But...how!" Margaret asked nobody, stepping out of the car. "I don't understand, it was fine when we moved out..."

Mordecai got out of the car as well and walked around to look.

"It looks like it hasn't been lived in for a long time, maybe nobody bought it, or it was foreclosed."

"But...It cant be like this, I spent the best years of my life here."

He detected tears behind her voice.

"Mordecai, I've got to go inside."

"But...it says..."

"I don't care, I'm going inside."

"Then I'll go with you, just a sec."

Mordecai reached into the back of the car and withdrew the lantern that Alex had given him. Repeating what Alex had done, he struck a match from a matchbox on the wick of the lamp, closed it and adjusted it until it was burning brightly with no smoke. Margaret was already at the door.

"It wont open." She said as he came up. a swift kick from Mordecai broke the doorjamb with a splintering crunch, and the boarded door swung open.

The two slowly stepped inside, the lantern lit up the dark walls a deep scarlet.

A chill went up Margaret's back. There was the stair banister she so eagerly used to slide down to the waiting arms of her father, now splayed at a raucous angle and missing many of its ornate balusters. The middle of the stairs were destroyed, appearing as if something heavy had fallen down them years before. discolored spots on the wall marked where pictures and clocks used to hang, which Margaret could mentally replace all in their correct locations. A vulgar paint-splatter covered one wall and the floor beneath it, as if some horrid half-baked restoration attempt was made and then abandoned. A single lightbulb hung from two wires protruding from a jagged hole in the ceiling, where a lovely chandelier used to hang. A small table sat, overturned next to the staircase, and missing three legs. Wedged in one of the doorways was the old upright piano, obviously having had an attempt by unskilled workers made upon it to be moved, which had equally as obviously ended in them getting it thoroughly stuck and simply left in place. She remembered how fluently her father had played the piano for her as she danced on the hardwood floor of the bright, spacious livingroom. Looking through the door, that same living room was now littered with its own fallen wall panels, dust and debris. The hardwood floor was scuffed, scratched and missing boards. Everything was dark and covered with dust, inanimate and seemingly frozen to its location for eternity, eerily lit in blood red by the old lantern that had rudely wandered into the midst of the quiet, stagnant dark.

Margaret's tears fell loudly on the floor.

"Oh – oh Margaret I'm _sorry_." Mordecai said, putting his free hand on her shoulder.

"This can't be the same house, it just _can't _be." She cried, running to the stairs and ascending them on the side that was still structurally sound. Mordecai watched her disappear into the darkness of the upstairs.

* * *

><p>Margaret found herself in a dark corridor of peeling wallpaper, ghostly rays of light through the dust, and shadows. The skylight, filled with debris, let in sickly yellow rays of light through its dirty glass. The hallway was filled with whispers, echoes of long ago. Margaret felt an electric pull down the hall. She stepped over a large unidentifiable piece of something, and around a corner into further dark. A heavy oaken door with a glass doorknob was set back in the wall. Margaret stepped before it and trembled, shivering uncontrollably. She did not feel well, she felt ill and sick, weak. Something about the place sucked the feeling out of her arms and legs.<p>

Behind this door was the place where she had watched her father die among the smell of the dusty carpet. Behind this door was the place where he had told her of the old men in the mountains playing ninepins who made the thunder in the gray skies, and how he was going to meet them. Behind this door was the place she had cried for longer than she ever had before or since, and kept crying even after the portly old police officer had found her, gently removed her from the room and called an ambulance, an ambulance which arrived _without_ its lights flashing.

Margaret's shivering grew in intensity as she reached for the doorknob, turned it, and pushed in. The door opened smoothly and silently. Crossing the threshold, and her shivering nearly brought her to her knees.

The room was lit with the same sickly yellow and impossibly dim and obscure light from the stained, dirty windows, the light that leaked through the poor board-up job that inconsiderate workmen had done. There, among the ceiling rafters that had fallen down, and the great sheets of industrial tarpaulin which lay about in droves and clumps, sat the old four-poster bed.

For a moment, Margaret rubbed her eyes.

There on the bed lay the red-crested form of her father. He turned to look at her.

"Margaret? My little Margaret? Is it really you?"

Margaret didn't answer. She blinked, the form was not that of her father anymore, it was something else.

"Yesssss, that is my _little Margaret_." Hissed a now unfamiliar voice in a tone laiden with hatred, a voice that seemed to be made of many voices.

The shape that lay on the bed was not that of the comforting influence of her father, it had changed to something indescribably horrifying. A black lump of gelatinous-like material seethed, bubbled and festered on the bed, thousands of black tendrils dripping and writhing off the bedspread and around the room, hanging from the ceiling and about the collapsed rafters and tarps. Its many limbs and gelatinous protrusions snaked about eachother in sharp, painful motions. The large, pulsating mass on the bed was dotted all over with hundreds of searing red, shifting orb-like eyes, all focused upon her. Running between these were large, trembling, mis-shapen mouths filled with thousands of lacerated teeth, each of which shakily drew in air with sucking noises.

Margaret fell to the floor, she could not comprehend what she was seeing.

"Yes Margaret, I am the thing which ate your father!" The Thing said in many different voices from its many different mouths, with a tone of pride.

"I grew out of all the bad will and suffering which seeped down into the earth, I am the thing that waits in the back of your mind, in the mind of all people, waiting for my chance to feast. Your doctors have come up with quite an interesting name for me, starts with an A I think, no matter, I have _many _names. Pain, fear, loathing, hatred, war, malice, jealousy, greed, you name it my dear! The knife and the cannon make me stronger, the insatiable want for more gives me definition! I exist to consume, and now my dear, now that you have come back to me, I will consume _you_ now."

"Stop it, leave me be..." Margaret whispered, rooted to the spot with fright. "Wasn't my father enough?"

"Oh now don't try and bargain with me, it's _never_ enough my darling..." It hissed. "Do not fear, it won't hurt, why...you might enjoy it! Just imagine, no more torment of existence, submit yourself to the sweet infinite nothingness which is me, and all those like me throughout the world. Do you know what a _pleasure_ it is to not exist?" The thing slid silently off the bed and was at her side in an instant.

Margaret felt a pull, the pull of that small, perverse desire buried underneath all her thoughts and memories, the desire to not exist. The same desire she had felt underneath the dam, the want to end all the discomfort, to make simplicity out of complication, to bring the great mechanisms to a stop. She felt the teeth of the pulsing, sucking mouths run over her feathers, she felt the black tendrils wrap around her.

"Sleep, rest, sleep now, but do _not_ dream – dreams are tiresome, just sleep." It whispered. Margaret gazed into the dark void of the mouth that was closing around her head. She saw no stars, just the darkest dark, and among the turmoilous, consuming whirlwind of silence, she saw peace.

Mordecai burst through the door. What he saw was too much for him to process, He saw a wretched, writhing mass of pure black that had wrapped around his loved one. To him it took many forms, he saw Leighton holding a knife over him, he saw every person in his life that had ever yelled at him with hatred and anger.

"Margaret!" he cried out. He felt a sudden and intense warmth hit his hand and move up his arm, strong but not painful.

The lantern in his hand abruptly spewed forth a great light, it's brightness could only be compared to that of the sun. It lit the whole room in a warm, beautiful scarlet glow, it shined into every dark corner.

The thing hissed, screamed, writhed and backed away from the robin, releasing its black tendrils from her body.

Margaret was snapped out of her trance by a wonderous red glow. The darkness and promise of peace was suddenly gone, the pull at all the memories in her head vanished. She saw every beautiful moment in her life rendered vividly in front of her in the red rays of light.

Mordecai looked all around as the lantern's light filled the room with images, sweet Memoria erupted in front of him. He saw all the wonderful moments in his life that he had tried to savor, and could not. Interlaced with these, he saw vivid images of far-off places, his sight flew over sapphire colored seas onto far shores where massive towers stood, he saw ships in harbor, merchants trading goods to peoples of far off lands. He saw water flowing through troughs into sprawling fields of crops, he saw busy harvests and beautifully painted trains rolling through the countryside full of life-bringing goods. He saw trees and valleys, great bridges spanning their many distances, docks and cranes of little seaboard towns where gulls wheeled about in the morning sky. He saw great cities where shining buildings towered inconceivable heights into the sky, and every person in them eating, drinking, trading, moving, loving and producing.

The great black mass began to smoke and disintegrate, its many tendrils losing their grip on the facets of the old room and recoiling into the gelatinous form. In the smoke, he saw the memories and experiences of the people it had consumed, ninetieth birthdays, children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren, rooms and walls and windows, colorful wallpaper, old cars, gaily checked tablecloths and balloons, window boxes overflowing with flowers and gently flowing creeks.

All this he saw, wheeling away into the red light in front of him, the little lantern seething furiously in his hand. All at once, the dark shape was no more, and all at once, the lantern's glow receded back to its normal, subtle self. In the afterglow of intense red, Mordecai could make out the forms of all the people he had seen, shrouded in the darkness, looking upon a small black spot on the bed with pity and resolve. He recognized a tall male robin among them, who looked at Margaret and then him, and smiled. With that, the apparitions faded, and the room was once again dark. Mordecai cautiously approached the small black spot on the bed. It was a spider, crawling about quickly. Mordecai quickly crushed it with the lantern.

Margaret sat, pressed up against the corner of the room, sobbing. He ran to her.

"Are you alright?" he panted, taking her tightly in his grasp. "My god I'm never letting you go again."

"So – awful." She cried. "Oh Mordecai, that's what got my father, that's what gets everybody who..."

"It's alright, it's gone now."

"No, it's everywhere, all over the world."

"But so is _this_." He whispered, holding up the steadily burning lantern. "And this is more powerful than what that thing represents can ever be."

"Please take me away from here."

"I will."

Mordecai gathered her up in his wings, the lamp hanging from his unused feathery hand.

* * *

><p>Down the steps and out of the old house they went. Margaret looked back over Mordecai's shoulder at the gaping doorway. There was nothing left for her, for either of them there. Was what she had just endured a dream? Despite how horrible an experience they had just had, she felt slightly stronger for it. It was something that she and he had eventually needed to see, it had just been here and now in that un-imaginably pure form. She looked up and forward, her future surrounded her, her lover holding the light which guided her, the old car that would move them to and beyond the horizon.<p>

* * *

><p><strong>Some deep stuff, eh? Oh well, hope I didn't overdo it. I had the idea for this chapter when I first began the story, I think it fits. Anyway, the last few chapters wont be so dark, more than that I shall not say.<strong>


	19. Interstate Eighty Eight

**Dag nabbit, Sorry for the ultra-long wait. Writers block was hitting me hard with this chapter, I tried to make it sound good and not make it monotonous. **

* * *

><p>Out into the countryside they sped. Mordecai drove fast. Alex had told him that the police didn't give as much trouble to speeding drivers in antique cars, as long as he wasn't clocking a ridiculous speed. Still, Mordecai wanted to get away. The road was open, clean, free of traffic. The fields of green were now all gold, flanked by red and amber trees. Small houses flew by and the shallow hills began to roll higher, the valleys deeper. This was the thrill of the road, he was already out further than he had ever been before, except on that wonderous trip on the locomotive. Signs read "Route 5 North" in black, white and green. He kept his right hand on the map when he wasn't shifting gears. Margaret looked at the scenery as it whisked past.<p>

Up came a large yellow sign; "Junction 88 East, West". Mordecai had been waiting for this sign to appear they had covered a lot of distance and he was wondering if the old map was still right. Shortly afterwards, an onramp which wound away into the trees off of the state route appeared. Mordecai steered right and brought the car easily up the ramp and through a dense thicket of trees. Coming around the curve and speeding up again, he found himself merging onto a large, well-metalled three-lane highway with smooth pavement and yellow striped jersey barriers separating it's sides. It wound away into the autumn painted countryside as far as the eye could see. A large yellow sign read in bold black letters; "INTERSTATE 88 EAST".

Mordecai smiled, bringing the car up to the seventy-five mile per hour speed limit. He then tilted his head, looking over the dash and making himself aware of the power in the engine. He wondered.

Mordecai pushed the accelerator all the way to the floor, the engine spat and roared. The original speedometer pegged at eighty, and a more modern dynamometer which he supposed had been put on by Alex read the speed climbing fast, eighty, ninety, ninety-five. The transmission was jammed firmly in third gear. He found himself laughing as he surpassed one hundred and five, not another car to be seen in either direction. The old Lincoln may have been ninety years old, but where power was concerned, it handled like a modern roadster.

"Whoooohohooo!" Margaret chirped, leaning out of the window, immediately being hammered back inside by the strong wind. Mordecai let the car coast back down to eighty, he turned to Margaret.

"Well, we got a full tank of gas, let's see what we can find out there."

* * *

><p>Scenery passed by in a whir of colors and shapes. Houses, small towns off the road in valleys. They passed over great bridges and through narrow ravines in the land, and sometimes through junctions with much grander highways passing over or underneath. Rounding a hill, an old transmitter antenna greeted them, towering hundreds of feet into the air and trailing little wires out to its sides to stable itself.<p>

They passed other cars, and other cars passed them. The couple received several cheerful honks and thumbs up from the other motorists as they passed, obviously appreciating the near centenary automobile. The clock on the dashboard steadily rotated, and the sun hung lower and lower in the sky. Their first day of travel was already beginning to draw to a close. They had passed over two state borders, the road narrowed into a humble state road, and then widened again back into a super-highway. Each state obviously maintained interstate 88 a bit differently. They were making good speed, a steady seventy five miles per hour.

"So...what do you think is out there?" Margaret asked.

"Wonderful things, only time and distance will tell." Mordecai replied.

"You think we're gonna make it? You know...long term?"

"I don't know, I'd be lying if I said absolutely yes, but that's what we're gonna do, we're gonna make the best go of it we know how. We've got a car and some money, and that's a start!"

"We're gonna have to find motels to sleep along the way, this is going to be a _long_ trip." Margaret replied.

"Yeah, and we're gonna have to stop and fill the tank soon, this thing sure is a guzzler."

A huge roar suddenly filled the air, Mordecai looked over and was startled to see the mammoth form of a gigantic amber-painted tanker-truck barreling up along side him, going at least twenty faster than he was. The long truck took it's time in passing them, the din from the engine and drive train was simply deafening.

"Thought those guys weren't supposed to use the left lane." Mordecai grumbled.

A Cadillac which had been tailgating them signalled and quickly passed on the right.

"Guess we had better speed up then!" Mordecai exclaimed, bringing the rattling car up to eighty five.

"I guess it's true, what they say about speed limit signs." Margaret laughed. "Hey, want some music? I still got that little radio from the emergency box from our _first_ trip."

"Hey yeah, lets see whats on!"

Margaret flipped on the little red set. The voice of Johnny Cash came out of the speaker, stating how he had been absolutely everywhere in the form of a song. To the quick, industrious little beat, the car sped on.

* * *

><p>"Ahhh, my back's all stiff!" Margaret complained as she lifted herself out of the car. The sun was setting, and the two companions had traveled very far. They had driven for seven hours straight, and only stopped at the fourth motel they had found, the only one with an advertised vacancy.<p>

"Mine too." Mordecai replied. "C'mon, lets go find the manager."

They strolled inside the dimly-lit, ramshackle building underneath the rows and rows of small rooms which peered out from behind railed decks.

A frustrated looking man fingered a pair of keys underneath a buzzing lightbulb as they walked to the desk.

"Excuse me, but the sign says you had a vacancy, what are your rates?"

"Thirty-five a night per person." The man growled.

"That's a bit steep." Margaret whispered.

"I know, but we've gotta sleep somewhere." He quietly replied. Speaking up, he addressed the manager. "We'll take it, we've got cash." Mordecai handed the man a hundred dollar bill, which he eagerly took and put into a great old register, taking out the proper amount of change. He then threw the keys to them with a curt "Here!".

Mordecai parked the car outside and the two of them climbed up a rickety old staircase to the second level balcony. Each room had a feeble little door lamp, many of which flickered and had attracted the incoherent motions of moths. The night air was getting cold and chilly, it nipped at their feathers. They reached their room, number 253, and after many tries at the faulty lock, opened the door. They were greeted by something quite unexpected. The building looked very raggedy-Anne from the outside, but the room was neat and tidy, clean, well-furnished and lit comfortably.

"I like it, it's homey." Margaret said. They hurried inside out of the night air and made the door shut fast, engaging the bolts. Margaret drew the shades. It was a spacious and yet cozy little room, two small windows, one at the front, the other at the back, let in the electric glow of the poor lighting outside. There were two beds, one of which they would not need, a small refrigerator, and a cabinet with nothing in it. They talked over the short first step in their trip as they unpacked small items of comfort, and they each took their turn in the bathroom. In a blur of tired, vague motions, they both soon found themselves snuggled up in the bed in eachother's arms, and fell asleep soon after.

* * *

><p>The couple had quietly returned their keys to the cross old manager and departed early in the morning. It was foggy, one could not see the road more than a half mile ahead. Headlights and taillights emerged out of the dark, passing them in a slow forward or reverse motion depending on their relative speeds, and disappearing in the opposite direction as they had come from. Margaret tiredly watched Mordecai drive. He too looked weary, having gotten up way too early, but seemed tireless in an odd way. Margaret began to think, and the more she thought, the more sickening worry crept into her mind. What if the end of their journey, the thick little bleed mark of ink on the map where Alex had held the marker for a few seconds, was a fluke, or something not quite right? What if they <em>couldn't<em> make a go of it, what if they failed? She knew not to expect a fairytale, despite the way things had been working as of late. On that wonderful trip, she knew very well that the incredible good fortune they seemed to meet with every single second was most likely caused only by the closely knit web of friends and guardians she had had that night, the railway crew, one of which who had coincidentally been their old schoolteacher, and of course Mordecai himself. But as for the others, coincidences of that magnitude didn't just happen like that and in such great numbers – did they? Margaret was used to having everything taken away from her, maybe it still would be. Maybe this trip was just an illusion of a future full of joy and happiness, maybe the trip was a fateful vehicle for eventual disaster. She could just picture them with no money, having to _sell_ the old car they had been entrusted with, Mordecai's life savings gone in an instant, and all because of a silly dream she had, and that for some reason, Mordecai wanted to fulfill for her. And this brought another terrible thought. What if her dream was a hollow shell, would the ocean be as wonderful and blue as she wanted it to be? What if it was just a gigantic, unimpressive pond. She had seen the ocean in paintings, and had been told by many who had seen it that the ocean could not be captured in a painting, but what if she simply expected too much?

Across from her, Mordecai was wondering almost the exact same things.

"Hey – Mordecai?" She asked.

"Yeah?"

"Wanna count cars?"

Mordecai's face almost instantly brightened.

"Can I get blue?"

"Only if I get red."

They both chuckled.

Margaret always had a sixth sense for altitude, and she could tell the car was ascending, climbing, even though the road had no visible incline. Sun was shining through the lessening fogbanks.

"Red one!" She gleefully pointed out the window at a little red Mazda.

"Blue one!" Mordecai pointed towards the container on a truck.

"No fair, that isn't a car!"

"Bahahaha, doesn't hurt to try!"

Suddenly, the fogbank parted, and they found themselves rounding a curve atop a hill which looked over a great crack in the land. The valley was like nothing they had _ever_ seen before, they could make out clusters of square colors, several small towns resided at it's bottom. The sides of the valley were gradual and grassy, mostly devoid of rocky cliffs, and its sides were like gigantic staircases, the land often stepping. Clouds sat down on the valley floor and up on its two ridges, near and far side, the latter of which they could not see over. The road, for as far as visibly discernable, continued along the near side of the valley, high above the bottom.

"Wowww." Margaret cooed, her eyes making out a slowly turning old windmill far off across the dip in the land.

"I can't believe this valley, I've never seen anything like it."

"Yeeahh." Margaret's voice trailed off. The little radio was playing an enchanting and melodious tune, a violin, harpsichord and flute Sonata from a nearby classical station, the car rode smoothly over the relatively new pavement, and the fog filled valley sang to her. Margaret slowly drifted to sleep.

* * *

><p>The robin pushed her way through oppressive brambles and briars, down a hillside to a rocky shore. She could hear Mordecai behind her, cautioning her, telling her to wait, but she had to see what lay ahead. Down among the sharp rocks which stung her feet, Margaret looked for the waters she had dreamt of and found none, just a dry bowl of black and tan which continued on and out into a featureless infinity underneath a bleak gray sky. An old steel vessel of yesteryear sat forlornly down the old beach among the gigantic boulders, the hull rusting, pieces missing. The old ship groaned as something deep down in its bowels slightly shifted position. There was no more ocean, it was an illusion she had been told of in a storybook long ago, the name of which she could not remember. Even her beloved father had been wrong. Tears welled up in the robin's eyes as she sat down on the rocks of what had supposedly once been a coastline, the old ship the only trace that water had even been there. She began to cry.<p>

"Margaret, Margaret?" A voice asked to her through the darkness. At first it sounded like her father, but it soon changed.

"Margaret what's wrong?"

The robin's eyes flew open. The light streaming in through the windows caught her dilated eyes off guard, and everything around her appeared bright blue. Mordecai looked at her from his position at the controls of the car, concernedly.

"Bad dream?" He asked.

"I...I...not anymore." Margaret replied, dazedly, wiping her eyes. She lay low in the seat, which was folded as far back as it could go. She looked up at her blue companion, around which everything else appeared blue, as it often did when she opened her eyes on a bright day after having had them closed for a good length of time. She lay so low that all she saw through the windows was a heavenly sky, not a single object passing overhead, it was like they were flying.

"Hey, sit up and check out this _bridge_."

Margaret sat up and recoiled slightly at what she saw. The road now wound across the top of a gigantic bridge, no over deck. The bridge curved gently away to the right, and she could make out great iron arches between immense stone pillars hundreds of feet high. The bridge crossed the valley, and continued into infinity beyond its far-side ridge, which had dropped slightly. Margaret looked straight down into a small, shimmering creek at its bottom, a small blue thread from her perspective. Little buildings lay here and there, she could make out the patchwork quilt of some sort of farm, the little thumbtacks of horses and other agricultural livestock milling about. She saw a solitary railroad track and a tiny, drawn out passenger train making its way briskly along it. In all her life she had never dreamed bridges of this magnitude existed, let alone were physically possible. Clouds at not only above, but below them.

"Aint this something?" Mordecai asked, taking in the views himself.

"It sure is." Margaret responded. She then noticed something. "Hey!"

"Yeah?"

"See that?"

She pointed to a small pull off on the bridge itself, where the deck widened. There was a small parking lot and two or three small buildings crammed together next to eachother, built right on the gigantic bridge itself, half-hanging off of it in what seemed a very precarious manner.

"It looks like a breakfast place!" She chirped. "Let's pull over, see what it is!"

"Alright, I could use some food." Mordecai nodded, realizing how hungry he really was.

And there, six hundred feed above the countryside, the two companions momentarily ceased their travel in front of a little ram-shackle tin-sided building, a fan hectically spinning in a vent on it's side. Mordecai locked the car, and they strolled over the pavement in the cool air of the dizzying height, the noise of the highway and the wind whipping over the bridge deck filling their ears. Margaret was about to say something when a gust of wind took her up in its arms. Mordecai reached out as she passed and caught her more or less out of mid air, the crude iron railing of the bridge mere feet away. Behind the building, a maintenance stairway descended down into nothingness. A small sign above the building read: "Highest pancake house of Interstate 88". They hurried inside.

As the screen door banged behind them, they found themselves inside a warm, inviting breakfast nook. In no more than a two-hundred square foot room, half of which was taken up by a bar and kitchen behind it, sat eight or nine tables with red and white checkered tablecloths, packed in next to eachother, and chairs enough for all of them. Small, ornately curtained windows looked right out into the sky hundreds of feet above the ground, through which the tops of clouds could be seen. The ornate baby-blue wallpaper was gilded with carefully scrolled spirals and diamond shapes. It was warm, little brass lamps clung to the walls and filled the room with a golden glow. The smell of pancakes, French toast and bacon filled the room. People sat about everywhere and the room was filled with the general clatter of plates, silverware and conversation. The little eatery felt like the cabin of an airplane, that bright, high-altitude light shining in from the small windows.

"Can I get'chya table?" asked a poofy-haired waitress wearing an old belt coin-changer.

"Yeah, table for two." Mordecai replied.

"I guessed that much." The waitress laughed, vigorously chewing her piece of gum. She lead them to the sole unoccupied table in the corner of the room by a small, draped window. Mordecai and Margaret looked out the comforting little square into hazy blue infinity. A cloud floor now obscured most of what was below. They realized the portion of the small building they were in actually hung over the edge of the bridge, but it was so close and warm inside, they didn't give it a second thought.

All over the walls were many pictures and awards the small diner had received over it's existence, mostly for the sake of altitude.

"This plaque is to recognize the Interstate 88 bridge breakfast and lunch eatery as the highest of such establishments in the united states, at six-hundred and ninety four feet above ground level, and two-thousand four hundred and eighty five feet above sea level." The plaques went on and so on, the recognition more or less equally split between quality of food and quality of view. Old photographs documented and long and prosperous existence for the little place.

"Isn't this fantastic?" Mordecai asked.

"I – I don't know _what_ to say about it. Every new day is a surprise." Margaret responded.

"Anything to order? Drinks?" Asked a tall man with a british accent.

"Why yes, we are ready to order."

* * *

><p>Their beaks watered at the sight of the gigantic plate heaped with steaming pancakes. The middle-aged English waiter set this down along with a can of thick amber maple syrup, a complex little spring-linkage on it's top.<p>

"Oh my goodness, I remember how much I used to love these things as a kid!" Margaret took up the syrup can and opened and closed it's top mechanism repeatedly.

"Ahh, a kindred spirit I see!" The waiter laughed. "I've always loved those things, one of my favorite parts of the restaurant business!"

They all laughed, and eagerly dug into their breakfast. They both liked their pancakes completely doused in maple syrup.

When they had finished, they ordered a second, and then a third helping. Neither one of them remembered a time when they had been so inexplicably hungry, and the pancakes were oddly satisfying.

"You know – if the rest of the world is like _this_, we don't have much to worry about." Mordecai stated through bites of food.

"Yeah, but I hate to see what our bill will be." Margaret replied.

"Yeah, it's probably gonna be a hundred dollars." Mordecai laughed. "It's okay, it's worth it."

"Look at us, rooaadd-traveling."

"Yeah I know, a month ago, could you even picture all this?"

"No, in fact I'd laugh and tell whoever told me that he's a liar."

"Well, life's just amazing that way."

"I hope we end up somewhere good."

"I know we will."

An old woman at the neighboring table turned to them.

"I hope I'm not intruding, but it sound like you takin' a cross country trip?"

"Yeah, we are, in fact a one way trip. We just moved away from our old town and we are in search of something new and unexplored." Margaret replied sweetly.

"Aha, I like that, that's a good sentiment, exploring is good. Let me give you some advice my friends, don't be afraid of wrong turns, sometimes the journey is more important than what's at the end of it. That wrong turn might take you somewhere unexpected."

"I'll make sure to keep that in mind." Margaret replied.

"Shouldn't be many wrong turns, we're just following route eighty-eight all the way to the ocean, what's out there anyway?"

The old woman grinned. "Oh, I've never been there, but I've heard about it."

"Heard what?"

"Well, I wont spoil the surprise. Anyway, the reason I spoke up is because when I was a young girl – _hard to imagine I know_ – I took a trip. I used to live one of the towns below the bridge, in fact we're almost right above it now, and when I turned twenty I just struck out to see the world. I lived in New York City for fifty years, married, had a wonderful life, got homesick and dragged my husband and home, my new home, _home_ with me. I am a firm believer in returning to one's place of origin, no matter what wonders you find out there."

"I don't think well be goin' back there, our town isn't really that nice, all the stuff from our childhood is gone now, there's nothing really left for us to go back to, that's why we left." Mordecai replied.

"I see." The old woman pondered. "I see, well yes you _would_ need to get out of there. Can't let yourself stagnate, see the wonderful thing was, with my small town, when I came back it was almost exactly as I left it. Even a lot of people I had believed to have died were still there and kicking around, doing the same old things. There is _nothing_ so wonderful as a constant in someone's life."

This sent a pang of memory through the two companions. It stung at both of them.

"Well anyway, finish your food, sorry to bother you." The old woman continued.

"Not a bother at all, and nice to meet you Misses..."

"Gullane, Phyllis Gullane."

"Nice to meet you Misses Gullane."

"Call me Phyllis."

* * *

><p>Mordecai and Margaret got the check, it wasn't half as expensive as they thought it would be. They bade goodbyes to the waiter and kitchen staff, and out into the cool morning air they strode. Outside the little ram-shackle hut that was as warm and comforting inside as a steam heated bedroom, the sky above was blue. A tremendous cloudbank had silently set itself upon the bridge, the deck and sky around them was filled with great white mountains of floating cotton which obscured any evidence of the earth below or the bridge in either direction. They were on a floating island.<p>

"This is so beautiful." Margaret crooned.

"Well, there's way more of it to see out there, let's get a move on."

The two of them piled into the old Lincoln, Mordecai started the engine and off they went, merging into the traffic which consisted of only one other car. The silver Honda ahead of them rapidly disappeared into the thick bank of clouds hanging over the bridge and was gone from sight in seconds.

"Ready?" Mordecai asked, speeding up.

"R – read...whoa!" Margaret exclaimed as the car was enveloped in white mist. The thick fog glowed with the sunlight from above and to the east, each water droplet compounded together into a gigantic compound prism. A rainbow of such vibrancy and intensity filled the car, that Mordecai swerved in surprise. The colors flooded the car and ran down it's shiny sides and wheel wells, water droplets slowly working their way down the windshield as the mist playfully condensed on everything it touched.

The two companions were far too enchanted by the intense display of color to say anything.

* * *

><p>The car rolled on through dry scrublands. The immense bridge had finally and reluctantly set itself down after a long range of hills which succeeded the gigantic valley. A sign at its massive concrete end had stated "End of the Grosmont honorary eleven-mile arch bridge, the longest bridge in America." which answered Mordecai's question of how long the span was. The land was much dryer here, and little patches of sand dotted the scrub-brush landscape. No buildings were visible, and every so often they passed a crude little wooden-post fence strung over with barbed wire. In the distance, they could make out the hazy forms of a low lying mountain range. The rusted signs they passed all still proudly stated "Interstate 88 East".<p>

The land rapidly changed from scrub to plains, arid plains. The air became slightly hotter, but not unbearable as the Autumn was at its height. The Lincoln ran smoothly.

"Whoa, hold up!" Mordecai exclaimed, glancing at the dashboard. The gasoline gauge was sitting firmly on the pin next to "Empty" on it's large black face.

"We gotta get gas." He said, worriedly.

"It looks like there's a town up ahead." Margaret squinted and looked toward the horizon. Mordecai saw what she pointed at, what looked like a small group of lightly painted buildings. Their suspicions were confirmed when they approached a large sign. Margaret recited it as they drove past.

"Welcome to Bonafield Flats, the Representative town of Route 88, and the automobile repair capital of the world."

"Sounds neat, they are _bound_ to have gasoline." Mordecai brightened up.

As the town came into view, the two saw the postcard image of an American flatlands town. The buildings were all of wood, mostly painted whites and reds. There was a church with a steeple which reigned supreme in height over most of the town. Telephone and disused telegraph poles stuck up into the air wherever they could be fit, a spiderweb and rats nest of black and copper wires between the shining glass insulators at their tops. They could make out colorfully painted and lit signs for auto body shops, gas stations, engine repair facilities, workshops, used car and cycle sales. A single traffic light hung in the interstate junction between eighty eight and some unmarked north-to-south route. Even the road signs of the town were decidedly antique, the letters dotted with glass reflectors.

"Take a look Margaret, that's the first and last traffic-light you'll ever see on a major highway." Mordecai laughed.

"That place looks cheap." Margaret pointed at a sign with a generic price for its gas listing, three dollars even.

"Yeah, that is pretty good, let's go in there."

Mordecai steered into the parking lot of a large yard of cracked pavement and weeds. On raised concrete islands, gasoline pumps that looked as old as the Lincoln they drove in sat, presumably ready to work. The yard was mostly full of old big-rig trucks and their drivers, quietly taking a rest from the open road. A building sat back from the road across the lot, a big six-door garage with a convenience store seemingly just nailed to the side of it. Along the side of the building sat cars that were just as old as theirs, and a brightly twin-engine Douglas passenger airplane of all things. All kinds of things were stacked in and around the building, signs, traffic lights, old sirens. A table with Interstate 88 coffee mugs sat outside.

He stopped the car and got out. As soon as he did, a muscular old man with long hair and a goatee creakily got out of his faded lawn chair and approached them.

"Nice set of wheels." The man spoke in a voice which most reminded Mordecai of Hulk Hogan. He grinned in the window, throwing his cigar on the pavement and stomping it out.

"Thanks." Mordecai replied. "Hey, do you know if this is self or full service?"

"It's full service, I'll get that for ya." The man said, walking around the car, seeming to know exactly where the hard-to-find gas cap was.

"Oh, you work here, sorry – I didn't..."

"No worries, I'm the manager of this here workshop and gas-station, and Im a collector of anything that runs on spark and petroleum."

"I can see that." Mordecai replied, pointing to the airplane. "Does that fly?"

"Sure does, I take that old DC-3 out every Saturday, among other things I run an unofficial food-export business for Miss Lovett's Bakery, best bakery youll ever find anywhere."

The old gas pump clanged as it came to life, the volatile fluid gushing into the tank.

"Fill it all the way please. That's quite a collection." Mordecai ventured.

"Yeah, awhile ago I proclaimed myself the keeper of route eighty-eight, and nobody gave me any competition for the title. I, if you will, _guard_ the route. I keep an eye out for trouble, and I keep its history alive. My workshop over there isn't just a workshop, it's a museum. I've got the first signs ever laid down on the road in there, pieces of the first pavement from when it was put down. I have the first car that ever traveled it from one end to the other non-stop in there. These gas pumps are original from the first gas station in this lot, and the first ever gas station in this state along the road. That plane over there is a part of the road's history too, back when it flew for an airline in the seventies, it made an emergency landing not too far from here on the road itself because one of the passengers had gone into labor with her child. One of the nice things about this old road, in these parts is there's no streetlights or bridges or anything to fowl you up, you could land one of them jet-liners right outside town if you wanted to. Anyway, I traced that plane's serial number, and when it was retired from service, I bought it. So, where did you get this car?"

Mordecai took advantage of the slow flowrate of the old gas-pump to relate a short version of his story, with Margaret chiming in. The more they told him, the more the man grinned.

"Tell you what, since I like you and this car of your's so much, I've got a proposition for you." He said, removing the gas nozzle.

"Yeah?"

"As you can see, I've got quite the collection of cars. I've got a nineteen-twenty Crossley which says I can beat you and this Lincoln. A good fair and square race, my car is seven years older than _yours_ is. If I beat you, then I beat you. If you win, you can have the tank of gas for free, as well as as much more of it as you can carry in cans. Sound good?"

"Hell yeah!" Mordecai replied without a second thought. He had never raced a serious car before, he had never raced anything that wasn't a golf cart.

"Where are we racing?" He asked.

"Down eighty eight of course, out of town until we hit the railroad tracks, then we turn around and head back. First one underneath the traffic light is the winner." The man replied.

"Sounds good!" Mordecai nodded.

The man walked back over to his chair and pulled a CB radio out from underneath it. He picked up and microphone and pressed the button.

"Breaker one-six, this is buckle-head callin' smokey bear, what's your twenty?"

"Hey there buckle head, you got smokey, I'm comin' into town now, what can I do ya for?" came a fuzzy reply.

"Need some official-like person to oversee a little race of mine, and tell your buddies not to interrupt old buckle-head and his hundred mile-per-hour shenanigans, okay?"

"Yeah copy that buckle head ten four."

"Buckle-head?" Margaret laughed.

The man looked up. "Ah yeah, callsign. You guys just call me Bill."

"Will do." Mordecai replied.

Up came an old police-car, the whitewall tires, chrome bumpers and single red revolving light accenting the old town around it perfectly.

"Hehey there smokey, how's the beat?" Bill asked.

"Ahh nothing too bad, helped a guy who had a flat this morning." Replied the officer, stepping out of the car. He had a wide-brim hat, a beige uniform and a pair of sunglasses.

"I got two friends here who just bought a helluva lot of gas, I'm givin 'em a race in this nice old Lincoln-machine of theirs, if they win they keep the fuel and get as much more as they can carry for no pay."

"Boy aren't you the sport!" The officer laughed. "Alright, Ill go de-time the traffic light for ya, and I'll be the chase car. Where to?"

"Railroad track and back here. Start at the light, end at the light." Bill said.

"Sounds good, let's do it!"

* * *

><p>The officer stood next to his cruiser, which idled. He was up on the curb next to an old cast-iron control box on one of the telephone poles. The box stood open, and the mechanism inside which controlled the old traffic light had been shut off. The light was dark on all four sides except the side which faced Mordecai, Margaret and Bill, which shined a steady red. Margaret stood in between the two cars with a flag. Mordecai had wanted her to come along, but Bill had advised him that more weight in the car would slow him down a lot, and he did not plan on holding back. Margaret took it in good spirit, and said every race needed a flag-girl.<p>

A few of the town's populous had come out to watch, interested, and had sat down on old chairs brought from their porches or places of leisure. Two men had brought out a gigantic extra-planetary telescope and pointed it down the road.

"Gentlemen, start your engines!" The officer hollered.

Mordecai started the Lincoln up. In the opposite lane, Bill revved up his nineteen-twenty Crossley. The car was a signature twenty-five/thirty model, painted a reflective navy blue with all brass trim, and had big wire wheels and springs which protruded forwards.

Both drivers gave the officer the thumbs up.

"On you mark!" The officer ticked a switch in the control box and the light changed to amber.

"Get set..._Go for it!"_

The traffic light ticked to green and Margaret waved the big American flag which she had been given.

Mordecai looked straight ahead, jammed the clutch and floored it. The Lincoln fishtailed out of start, picking up speed quickly as the wheels regained their grip on the ground. Bill had already jumped ahead with a cleaner start.

Out of town the two motorists and their machines roared, kicking up a dustcloud on the deserted road behind them. Mordecai felt every bump in the road. In what seemed like no time, they were both at a hundred miles an hour. Mordecai slowly drew level with Bill.

"Hey there!" Bill jovially greeted his opponent over the tremendous noise. "Glad you could make it, you gotta improve those starts!" Flames shot from the crudely carbureted automobile's exhaust-pipes. Out into the sandy brush and scrublands they went. The pavement was old and faded, but smooth.

Holding the car in a straight line, Mordecai marveled at the endless prairie and the brassy sky above. The low flatland of rocks and sand was cut through every square yard by small, dry plants. Here and there, a dead-looking tree poked up. There were no other features to the landscape save the mountains on the far off horizon toward which he flew. He caught a glint of silver on the horizon, he had seen railroad tracks enough by now to know how to identify them. Over the reflectory noise of the cars over the ground, Mordecai heard a diesel horn.

Up came the railroad crossing, guarded by nothing more than crossbuck signs on crooked poles. The freight train was clearly in view. Bill had slowed down and gave Mordecai a circular hand-gesture, signalling he was to turn around before the tracks.

Mordecai expected Bill would stop and do a quick three-point turn, but was surprised when he dashed clean off the road and into the sandy flats along side the railroad track, beginning a wide circle at near full speed.

The tracks grew closer with each second, and Mordecai had to slow and swerve to avoid them. As the train clattered up along side him, the intrigued train-crew leaned out of the gigantic black-topped, green and white stripe-fronted diesel locomotive.

"Good luck, c'mon now you can beat him!" He heard one of the engineers holler.

Mordecai brought the car through the low brush in a long, sweeping turn, the car bouncing crazily over the small plant life.

Back to the road he sped, swerving again and again as he met the pavement, trying to straighten out. Bill was slightly ahead of him again and still out in the brush, and he quickly rejoined the pavement as well.

The cars strained, working at their absolute full output. The engines revved to their maximum speed, and the ninety year old machines shook furiously.

The town glinted at them on the opposite horizon. Mordecai could make out the little flashing red dot of the traffic light glaring at him.

He was again gaining on bill.

* * *

><p>The two men with the telescope shouted race-information to those around them. The officer impatiently asked them what was happening. A small dust cloud had re-appeared on the horizon, getting closer very fast.<p>

"Yeah I see 'em, they are absolutely neck an' neck it looks like, my god them cars are goin' for it!" One man exclaimed, one eye pressed into the eyepiece of the telescope.

"Okay girlie, get over there so you can flag em down, Frankie, get out that Polaroid of yours!"

Another bystander quickly withdrew an aged Polaroid camera and rushed to set it up, abandoning his tripod and substituting cinder-blocks.

"Frankie there has an itchy finger." The officer explained to Margaret, who picked her flag back up.

"Ohhh boy here they come!" Someone shouted.

* * *

><p>Bill was drawing ahead of Mordecai. The town buildings rushed past in a blur of front porches and colorfully shuttered windows.<p>

"Better luck next ti..." Bill shouted, but was cut off by a loud bang. A fireball shot out of the exhaust pipe of the Crossley, the engine had backfired.

The Crossley fell back slightly as the traffic light raced towards them.

Both cars careened over the finish line, there was a tremendous flash of light and the officer blew his whistle as loud as he could. Margaret didn't have to wave the flag, it flew in the wind generated by the two automobiles. Bill and Mordecai both jammed on their brakes hard, the autos leaned forward and skidded to a halt a few hundred feet down the road.

The entire crowd had rushed around the man with the Polaroid camera, who had snapped the shot more or less exactly as the cars crossed. He held the picture up to the sunlight eagerly as those around him jockeyed for position.

"Oh it looks like the Lincoln has old Bucklehead _beat_!" Someone shouted.

Bill and Mordecai both sprinted over, just as several shouted in disdain, "It's a TIE!"

"_TIE?_" Mordecai and Bill asked in unison.

The man slammed the photo down on an empty chair and pointed.

Mordecai's front bumper was over the line, and just in line with it were the large, protruding front end leaf-springs of the Crossley.

Bill roared with laughter, as did Mordecai, and soon everyone else. The officer banged the traffic light box in approval, slightly harder than he meant to. The light lit up all its lenses at once in a dazzling Christmas-tree effect, which added to the mirth of the crowd.

* * *

><p>"Mordecai is it?" Bill asked.<p>

The jay nodded.

"Good friggin' race." Bill grabbed Mordecai's wing with his giant hand and shook it firmly. "I think you earned that gasoline. Hell, the way you drove that thing, I mighta' given it to ya if you lost anyway."

The people cheered, waving their hats, binoculars, an ancient Polaroid and a ten-foot telescope.

"You take damn good care of that car, you hear me?" Bill said in a mockingly stern tone. "That's a real treasure, and you tell that Alex kid that I said hi if you see him again."

"Will do!" Mordecai replied. "Thank you _so_ much for the gas, there's enough here for most of the damn trip!"

"If I know that old L-7's engine of yours, I think it should be just about enough for the entire rest of the trip, give or take one more fill-up."

The car, being a limousine model, had an abundance of space in the back end, and between Mordecai and Margaret, there was not much luggage. They had packed eight five-gallon drums of gas into the old Lincoln, a total of forty gallons plus what was in the tank.

"Goodbye Bill, goodbye everyone!" Margaret chirped.

Bill, the police officer, and some of the bystanders from the race waved them off as Mordecai started the engine. Out back onto the double-eight he steered, due east, the afternoon sun directly at their backs.

"You done good buckle-head, you done good." The officer stated.

"Hey, just keeping this old road and it's many travelers alive and well." Bill replied.

"Where to next?" Margaret asked.

"I dunno for sure sweetheart." Mordecai replied, looking at the map. "But we're going over the mountains."

* * *

><p><strong>Authors Notes:<strong>

**Like I said, I tried to make it sound good and not make it monotonous. I am not entirley happy with this chapter, I think it moves a little too fast to be a good road-trip chapter, but hey, it works. The next ones will be up quicker if the writers block doesnt set in again, I just find writing about the trip itself harder. It was the only part of the plot I didn't have firmly stuck in my head. And dont worry, the story aint over yet.**

**Until next time,**

**LeninWerke**


	20. Mountain Mists

**Once again, I am sorry for the long wait! I have not forgotten this story, not by a long shot, I am still working to finish it and now I am closer than ever. I was away acting as a steam engineer in an engine exposition in my home town this week, so I apologize for the absence. **

**On with the story! **

* * *

><p>Mordecai struggled to keep the car on a straight course. Over the past day and a half, they had climbed high into a mountain range, shrouded in thick mists. The mountains lay around them like sleeping giants, nearly shapeless forms of dark in the cloud cover. Rain poured down in buckets all over the shabbily maintained, deserted highway. The sky was an ominous color of grayish murky black, and the pouring water did not relent. The car's four acetylene headlamps cut through the darkness in yellow beams. Every now and then, the heavy fog would open up and they would look down a ledge into a deep valley, or up to an impossibly high peak atop a cliff face. Streams and shallow rivers crossed the road, little old road-signs feebly warning the two companions of them far too late to take any action. Mordecai plowed through each one as it came, the car hydroplaning and skidding frightfully, then stopping on dryer pavement, where he resumed his course.<p>

Nothing was heard save the sound of the rain and the deep rumble of the car engine.

"This is crazy, isn't there anywhere to stop?" Margaret asked.

"Doesn't look like it, there's no shoulder, half the places if you were to go to the side of the road you'd fall off a cliff!" Mordecai replied, nervously.

"I cant believe they'd even build a road like this, it can't be legal."

"I bet it's fine when it isn't pouring, and besides, you heard what Bill said, this road is one of the first highways. Nobody gets anything exactly right on the first try, besides, this is quite an adventure, we'll remember this trip forever."

"Yes we will, just as – as long as we don't die!" Margaret jumped as Mordecai slowly swerved to avoid a fallen branch.

"Mordecai..." She pleaded. "I'm scared, I don't want you to end up hurt, we've got to find a place to stop until this lets up!"

Mordecai heard the urgency in her voice, and the rain was getting worse.

"Okay, next place I find, we're stopping." He re-assured her.

She smiled at him. The smile quickly vanished as her face, and the rest of the inside of the car, was lit up by a blinding white light.

The lightning bolt forked down into the murky nothingness on their right, a deafening crack shook the road. Margaret had latched on to Mordecai's arm.

* * *

><p>On and on they drove, the road narrowing, flooding, twisting, ascending, and narrowing again. The only indication that they were still on the interstate was a small board nailed to the ancient guard-rail, meant by its builder to look conspicuous, and having more or less failed to do so. The board was charcoal-written with double-eights, and had obviously been put there to replace a previously destroyed sign, which lay in fragments near the rail.<p>

"Hey, hey there's something." Mordecai pointed out into the darkness. A dirt road lead away from the main road, into a crack in the mountainside to their left.

"Oh good, stop here!" Margaret responded.

Mordecai eased the car off the highway and onto the dirt road. As another flash of lightning lit up the scene, he saw the road went through a tremendous cleave in the rock wall, and into a narrow gorge.

Mordecai drove slowly, the walls closed in on either side, then slightly widened again. Great boulders lay stacked on top of eachother, and waterlogged old dead trees were fallen here and there.

"Hey, whoa, take a look at that!" Margaret exclaimed.

An old set of narrow railway track began and continued off, parallel to the old dirt road. The land from there on was layed and strewn about with broken machinery, tremendous iron gears, girders, culverts and riveted iron cylinders, all rusted through and through and battered with age. Mordecai had only seen this sort of machinery before in Alex's workshop, and well cared for. He could make out a boiler, tilted and leaning on a rock formation to allow passage down the road. Up the impossibly high, nearly vertical faces of the gorge, Mordecai was daunted by gigantic rocky outcrops and formations resembling faces and the bows of great seafaring vessels of long ago. A small creek flowed down the middle of the dirt road, right between their wheels. The car crawled on.

* * *

><p>At last, the gorge widened. The small stream that ran in the middle of the dirt road veered off to one side and disappeared down a waterfall into a deep crevasse in the earth, shrouded by thick mists. A few skeletal trees protruded from it and clung to the gorge wall. Around lay yet more derelict machinery, rust covered forms which were distorted in their windows by the rain. The car did not have windshield wipers, just a slight roof over-hang which guarded the windshield. The windows began to obscure any visibility they once had for the sheer thickness of the watery sheets which poured down them. Mordecai stopped the engine.<p>

"Margaret, look at that!" He said.

In the watercolor mess of grays and murky blues and blacks, a shining pinpoint of golden light hovered about in the window glass.

"What is that?" Margaret asked, her voice dulled by the intense noise of rain on the roof.

"It looks like a...flashlight or something...wait hold on."

A dark splotch appeared, the light seeming to emanate from its center.

There was a knock on the car door.

"You folks need some help?" A muffled voice asked.

Margaret pressed back into her seat as Mordecai opened the door.

The avians were greeted with, among other things, a gigantic white beard.

A lanky man stood in the pouring rain, wearing an old tin helmet, holding an old, shining hot-blast lantern and with a somewhat unkempt, white beard flowing like a waterfall from a kind, battered face.

"You folks need some help?" He repeated. "This storm is worse than any I have seen in these old hills for many a long year, you can wait it out with me if you like."

Mordecai became more comfortable almost instantly.

"Yes, we would like that, wouldn't we?" He turned to Margaret.

"Mhmm." She nodded, holding Mordecai's hand.

"Good to meet ya's, th' name's Jebediah." He said, extending his hand. "Last watchman of mining outpost number sixteen. You're gonna get a bit wet on the way there, but it's worth it for some warmth."

"Good to meet you, I'm Mordecai, and this is Margaret." Mordecai shook Jebediah's hand.

"Mordecai eh? That's quite a name you got there, haven't heard a name like that before if'n you'll pardon me sayin' so." Jebediah declared in a nearly toothless grin.

The two avians stepped out of the car and into the downpour, they were nearly knocked down by the weight of the water. Jebediah laughed heartily, his voice echoeing about the gorge.

"Haaahaha, just the old mountain sky bringin' the much needed stuff of life down to mother earth." He chuckled through the rain. "The rain has always been a close friend o' mine. Here, come on with me, just follow the light."

He pointed the old lantern toward a rocky outcrop amidst the machinery, a straight beam of gold from the lamp's dash-lens cut through the falling rain. Mordecai and Margaret struggled through the sheets of cool, rushing water, Jebediah hobbling along in front of them.

There, underneath a gigantic rock slab jutting out from the gorge wall, and resting on the other, sat a small building, just about the most ram-shackle little mining shack either of the two companions had ever seen, it trumped every film or book they had ever witnessed that had tried to cliché something similar. The building was just slightly bigger than a garden shed. It had a front porch where a rocking chair stood, and which was hung with all manner of things, picks, shovels and other hand-excavating gear, augers, a helmet or two, and several mining lanterns which were all lit. These, combined with a golden glow from the unusually small windows, gave a welcome appearance to the little building. A weathervane sat atop the gable in the roof, at a raucous angle. Piled in front of the porch were gears, wheels, shafts and other metal miscellany which was indiscernible due to the fog and rain. The set of small railroad tracks, which had followed the dirt road into the gorge, crossed the small clearing and ran up along side the shack, where the silhouette of a little steam locomotive sat upon them, several pipes running from its boiler into the shack. Hazy smoke poured from the chimney.

Jebediah clambored through the pile of scrap metal onto the porch, and opened the front door. Warm firelight escaped into the wet cold of the foggy gorge.

"Come on in, better hurry now, my food's burnin'."

With some difficulty, Mordecai and Margaret climbed onto the little porch and in through the front door, which Jebediah slammed shut.

The space inside the shack looked much larger than the building looked from the outside. A thick old carpet sat down upon a wooden floor, lanterns by the dozens hung everywhere and lit the room. A large, intense fire burned inside a huge cast-iron stove. A steam radiator warmed the room on the wall away from the stove, receiving steam from pipes which ran outside through small, well-packed holes. Through the tiny windows could be seen the dark murkiness of the rainstorm, appearing as almost night-time from inside. In the corner of the room sat a mining carriage on another set of rails spiked right into the floor. Upon this carriage was a small table, on which rested upside-down chairs. A harmonium organ sat against the far wall, and up on all four walls around the ceiling hung more mining tools, a crank telephone, a shotgun, and the furs of several small dead animals.

"Welcome to my humble home, mining outpost number sixteen." Said Jebediah.

"You're a miner?" Mordecai asked, attempting to dry himself off near the stove.

"Used to be." Jebediah replied. "I used to work the metal mines in these old mountains with the rest of my old crew, but when the mines stopped givin' us our metal, the whole kit-and-kaboodle went to pot and we was all stuck without jobs. I loved this old place so much, I just decided to stay here and save what machinery I could. Everyone left to start a different life except for me, Lacie, and old number eight."

"Lacie?" Margaret asked.

"Number eight?" Mordecai asked.

Jebediah laughed.

"Yeah, number eight is an old friend of mine, she's the steam locomotive that helped us work the mines, we'd have been in a right lot of trouble without that engine on more than several occasions. She's the one you saw sittin' outside, a good old Climax-type, she's _still_ helpin' me out by steam-heating the shack for me. Her boiler is in fiiinnee shape, but she just don't go no more, running gear is more or less finished. Even if she did go, there's really nowhere for her to go _to_ anymore. As for Lacie, she's my dog."

Jebediah sat down in an old rocking chair, whistled and clapped his hands.

A mass of fur in the rafters sprang to life and bounded down from the ceiling. A sleek and graceful saluki-dog bounced into his arms.

"Heheyy there girl, we got some visitors."

The saluki yelped softly, turned over in Jebediah's arms, and closed her eyes in slumber.

* * *

><p>Jebediah rolled out the old mining carriage and the table which sat upon it into the middle of the room. He had fetched some meat and bread from a cauldron on the stove, set it down, cut it up, and offered it around to the saluki and the two avians.<p>

"Baked that bread myself, everything I eat here I have to make or get somehow."

"Mmm, this meat is good!" Margaret chirped. "I don't usually like it either, what is it?"

"That, my girl, is one hundred percent genuine mountain-squirrel!" Jebediah stated very proudly. "Biggest one I have ever seen in these parts, and fast too, shot him three times before he stopped thrashin' and flailin' around."

Margaret's eyes widened and she dropped her fork. Mordecai started laughing uproariously, followed by Jebediah.

"I take it that's your first time havin' squirrel?" the old miner cackled.

Lacie began to make noises very similar to laughter as well.

"I don't think that's very funny!" Margaret exclaimed, looking wide-eyed at her plate.

"I see your one of them don't-kill-anything people. I can respect that, I was brought up the old fashioned way with a shotgun in my hand, Papie taught me that much." Jebediah said. "It's a respectable trait, hating to end life. I sometimes which I had a little more of that trait, but a man's gotta eat in these parts."

A thundering crack echoed throughout the valley, slightly shaking the cozy little shack. A plate jumped a few millimeters across the table. Jebediah's face grew into a wide smile.

"Yeeaahp, the old men in the mountain's are a-bowling again. That sounded like one of 'em got all nine pins down." He chuckled.

Margaret nearly dropped her fork, and Mordecai looked at Jebediah with astonishment and wonder.

"You hit a bone there?" Jebediah asked Mordecai, noting his expression. "I'm terrible sorry, I thought I picked them all out."

* * *

><p>Jebediah had extinguished all but one of the lanterns, thrown two great wooden beams across the rafters up on the ceiling, and had neatly packed a straw mattress on top of them.<p>

"That's where you two will be bunking, don't mind me I'll take the old chair like I always do. You guys need anything to get up there?"

"Just a stepladder or something." Mordecai nodded.

"Thanks for everything Jebediah." Margaret replied.

"Of course, here's your stepladder." He withdrew a stepladder from behind the stove and unfolded it. Margaret set it down on the floor and got up on it, Mordecai lifted her up and into the rafters. She landed on the straw with a soft rustling noise. Mordecai, with Margaret pulling, lifted himself up onto it as well. They were in the cozy triangular space of the roof. Lacie dozed, tucked away between two of the great wooden rafters. The thick and weather-proof mix of tin, wood and thatch murmured with the trickling and patter of the rain outside.

"Thanks a lot Jeb." Mordecai said, looking down upon the small room below.

"Yeah...dont mention..." Jebediah's voice trailed off. He was already asleep in the old rocking chair.

Mordecai turned to Margaret. All around them was warm and soft.

"I'm so glad we found a place to stay, I had such a bad feeling about keeping on and driving this evening." Margaret cooed.

"It's alright." Mordecai replied. "So, how did you like that squirrel?"

She kneed him gently and he held onto her very tightly.

As they began to fall to sleep, Margaret thought back to what Jebediah had said at the table, about the old men in the mountains who's games of ninepins made the thunder. How did he know of it? For all she knew, it was old mountain-lore that her father had picked up in his travels, and that he had told her to make her feel better. At this thought, that there was nothing more to it, Margaret felt a sob rise in her bosom. She fought it back, for Mordecai's sake. Still, there seemed a profound connection. She snuggled deep into the straw and off into darkness.

* * *

><p>Margaret came awake to the rustling of straw.<p>

"Hey, girlie, wake up now." She heard Jebediah's voice, rather insistently. "C'mon now, up ya go."

The room was filled with a calm, gray light filtering in from the windows. It was quite different from the shining gold of the lamps the night before, everything looked as in a charcoal drawing.

She slowly rolled and hung her head over the side of the mattress. Jebediah had been gently poking at the straw with an old stick.

"Ah good, you're up. Sorry to wake you, but I figured you'd think this is important." The old miner smiled up at her with quite an odd expression. Margaret was taken aback at what she saw in his face, it was a sense of awe, he looked stunned, as if he had just been given a hard and painful blow or he had been told something wonderful.

"Yeah?" The robin asked sleepily.

"There's someone who says he knows you, I met him on my morning walk, he wants to see you."

At this, Margaret was completely stymied.

"Me? Are you sure it was me he knows?"

"Yep, he said Margaret, a pretty little red robin like yourself he asked for."

"Who is he?"

Jebediah smiled again. "He wanted me to surprise you. I can take you to him now, but if we are gonna go, we'd better do it now because he can't stay very long."

Margaret's mind began to work feverishly. Who in the world would she know that would be doing out in a desolate mountain range after a storm? Who did she know that wasn't in the town that she and her lover had left? Did he follow her here? Was he dangerous, an ex-boyfriend? Or was this some excuse for Jebediah to get her outside for some reason? After all, he was a Cenile old miner who had lived alone for years. She banished these thoughts quickly. She was good at reading people, and he seemed like a steady-going type, despite his eccentricities. The old picture of his wife on the wall assured her enough of that.

"I guess I'll go." Margaret consented.

"What?" Mordecai asked groggily, coming awake. "Go where?" He asked.

"Aha, good, excellent." Jebediah said approvingly. "Glad he's awake, this person requested, if at all possible, to meet this jaybird friend of yours."

At this Margaret was almost sure it was one of her exes. Even if it was, she had to confront it, and she would have Mordecai there to protect her.

"Alright, well let's get a move-on." Jebediah creaked, donning a coat that was so tattered, it more resembled an shawl than a coat. Lacie slumbered in the rafters.

"Such a sleepy dog." Mordecai observed, climbing down from the ceiling.

"Yeah, yeah she loves to doze." Jebediah replied.

Margaret slipped on the clothes she had worn the previous day, and climbed down as well. Her legs and arms were stiff, she had slept deeper than she had in a long time and felt well-rested.

Jebediah opened the door, and the trio left the confines of the small shack.

The world around them was a translucent, nearly opaque world of bright gray fog and mist. The shapeless forms of the gorge walls, and anything else around, loomed up out of the gray as a towering form of slightly darker gray, which only became visible within a few feet. Light from the invisible morning sun filtered down through the thick soup and lit up everything in an ethereal bluish, greenish gray. Jebediah picked up a rusted old lantern from the porch, struck a flame to it with a tinder-box in his pocket, and lowered the globe. The lamp, which had a red glass, made a wonderous orb of light in the mist.

"Follow me." He said, walking around the shack and underneath the overhanging rock slab.

The three of them made their way between the shack and the steam locomotive, still seething with the warmth of steam. It was rusty, but slathered with grease to keep the rust in check, and it looked well cared for. It did not get rained on for it was fully underneath the rocky overhang.

"Alex would love this thing." Mordecai chuckled.

Out and into the gorge beyond. The railroad tracks continued for a few score more feet, then twisted upwards and came to a wrenching end, the rails splaying and pointing down into the muck. A few more sections of it lay strewn about beyond.

Out into the mist they strolled, the walls of the gorge on either side two cards of darker gray in the light gray. Everything was still and silent, save the shrill of a lone songbird high above on one of the dead branches, and it remained so until the sky again rumbled with distant thunder.

It sounded far-off, but still very much present. They felt it not only in their ears, but in their feet, as the ground trembled with it's sound.

"Ahaha, they're still at it." Jebediah chortled.

The gorge split in two, forking as a tremendous rock formation loomed up in the middle of the rocky floor, it's top bridged across to the other walls with fallen trees and other rocks. It looked like a gigantic, uncanny set of double doors, with only the frames left.

"Here, up this way. If we went right-wards, we'd eventually hit the old mine where I used to ply my trade." Jebediah said, directing them into the left passage. "Now look alive, this turns into a climb, and there are loose rocks." His voice echoed back to them several times in the hushed mist.

* * *

><p>On and on they went. Scrub brush was prevalent from between the scraggy outcrops and rock piles. The gorge floor began to ascend in a pile of large boulders. Small rocks had been placed around them to create a makeshift stairway.<p>

"I did my best to make it passable, but like I said, everything's shifty, so be careful."

They scaled up the gorge wall using the boulders. Soon, the floor of the gorge behind them was blotted out in the gray as well, leaving them in a small middle-world between the ground and sky.

The air and earth shook again with a rolling clap of thunder. It was closer, but still sounded an eternity away. Margaret did not feel threatened by this new noise, she felt comforted.

The top of the gorge wall was marked by three skeletal trees, reaching out from the cliff edge like bony hands. They grabbed these, one by one, to hoist themselves over. The troop found themselves standing on a flat, rocky slab of ground with scrub and mountain weeds poking up from the cracks and little sand-pits. A darkness to their left indicated the prescence of an impossibly high land formation, a mountainous cliff-face, and a towering rock formation hung in the air to their right. There was a narrow passage between these.

"Through we go." Jebediah encouraged. "Nearly there."

Through the passage between the mountainside and the rock pile they trudged.

* * *

><p>Again, a deep and rolling thunder-crash, closer this time. The ground shook and pebbles audibly rolled across it.<p>

The mountainside still loomed up into the nothingness on their left, but a plateau seemed to continue out to the right. A scraggly, worn old evergreen tree that had seen decidedly better days grew and twisted itself out of the rocks a little ways on, and in the distance, four completely shapeless forms in the fog, seemingly equidistant from eachother and more or less all the same height.

Jebediah lead them towards these four shapes. They seemed impossibly far away, and immense. He called out into the fog, "Oi, oi there, I brought who you asked for, come on out and see her."

Margaret held Mordecai's hand.

In the red light of the lamp, something else red came out of the gray.

An older robin, a tall male, stepped into view. He wore a drab buttoned coat and long pants with no discernable features on them, and looked much like Margaret, much _too_ much like Margaret. Mordecai stared in disbelief, for he had seen the face once before, in the light of a lantern much like this one.

"D-daddy?" Margaret whispered. "Daddy!"

"Come here my little one, I'm here." The red-and-white-clad man said with tears in his eyes and in his voice.

Margaret rushed to the open arms of her father.

"Daddy where did you go?" she asked, plaintively, dolefully.

"I had to go away. Sometimes people have to go away before they planned to because of horrible things that happen."

"How are you here?" She asked, breathlessly.

He laughed, a kind laugh. "I told you, I went to stay with the old men in the mountains, they make the thunder when they play their game of nine-pins you know." He pointed his scarlet wing toward the four shapes which lay beyond in the mist.

The fog had thinned slightly, and Mordecai and Margaret felt their breath leave their body at what they saw.

The great heads rested between gigantic, broad shoulders. The four immense shapes did not look like the natural occurrences of rock, but through that rocky likeness had gained the squarish shapes of men. They could not tell if they were made of flesh, or the same stone as the mountainside. Haggered clothes draped about massive statue-like bodies which rose a hundred feet or more into the foggy sky. One of the four massive shapes moved and bent forward, away from them, bringing back a gigantic arm and a brawny, silhouetted hand clutching a great sphere. The arm swung forwards, and the sphere disappeared into the fog. As the great man straightened up in complete silence, the other three shifted slowly. Complete silence.

A deafening, rolling boom shook the ground and sky. A distant fork of lightning could be seen far off in the nothingness. The ground shook again as the gigantic form that had just rolled his equally gigantic sphere took a step backward, and then became stationary.

Margaret had pressed her head into the folds of her father's jacket, overwhelmed by what she had seen.

"They told me you were coming, you see." Her father continued. "I asked them if I might go see my daughter, how she grew up, what she looked like, how she had fallen in love. They said I could easily see you, but I told them that was not good enough this time. I wanted to _see_ you, to touch you, to talk to you. I ended up persuading them, they really are nice fellows, they have been here for quite a long time. Your friend Jebediah here knows these mountains, they are a part of him as he is a part of them. He has known each of the old men for many a year, so I asked him for the favor. You wandered so close, I had to take the chance as it was given to me."

Laughing sobs flowed freely from Margaret's beak as she held onto her father. He ran his hand through her red crest of feathers. He continued talking, sitting down on the rocky ground with her and cradling her.

"Now I see what a fine young woman you have turned into, and look at you traveling all the way across the country, you are following your heart and your dreams, just like I told you to. You are going to go so far, my beautiful little girl."

He looked up towards Mordecai, who had stood in silence the whole time.

"I see you have gotten yourself a boyfriend! I don't have to beat him up, do I?" He asked, mirthfully.

"Oh no, no!" Margaret replied into his coat.

"You, come here." He beckoned Mordecai.

Mordecai did as he was told.

"I've seen what wonderful care you have given my daughter. You are filling up the place I left behind in her life and more, and for that I will be thankful to you forever." Margaret's father stated, extending his wing.

Mordecai took it, and was met with a firm handshake.

"You take care of her, and get her safely to the ocean." The older Robin said to him, just as firmly. "I know she is safe with you."

Another one of the gigantic, silent figures bent down, drew back its arm and the gigantic sphere which it held, and pitched it forward into the mist. As the great man straightened up, yet another deep boom shook the foggy world around them, accompanied by a dull flash of light.

Margaret's father laughed.

"You know, they asked me to try that game of theirs once, I couldn't even move the ball, let – hahehehe – let alone lift it. They carved them out of the mountainside themselves. They all laughed at me, I guess nine-pins isn't my game."

"Daddy, what's it like where you went? What can you see?" Margaret asked.

"Ssshh, hush now no need to talk about things like that. It is wonderful and I can see everything, let's just leave it at that. You have a life to live before you find out about that stuff." He looked up. "Jebediah!"

The old miner turned to them. "Ye-ah?" He asked.

"Thank you, thank you for all you've done, for everything."

"Don't mention it." Jebediah replied. "Miner's code."

Margaret's father laughed.

"Margaret, it's time I rejoin my friends. Their game wears thin, and it's about time for the sun to come out, they are tired, as am I."

"Daddy – no wait, dad, don't go, you can't go now that you're here!" Margaret pleaded. She frantically clutched at both He and Mordecai, trying to surround herself with those she loved. "Don't leave me, don't leave me alone!"

"You'll never be alone, You've got Mordecai now. You picked a real winner, that one." Her father winked at Mordecai, getting up. Mordecai went red.

"But I want you _both!_" She cried. "Every little girl needs a father, don't go away again!"

Her father's expression changed at this remark. Grief filled his features.

"I know, but you aren't a little girl anymore, you've grown, you're so much stronger now, I _know_ you will find your way. Besides, I am not a part of this world anymore. I _have_ to go now. If I don't now, I wont ever."

"I miss you!" Margaret sobbed. Mordecai wrapped his arms around her.

"Ssshhh." He tried to comfort her. He _hated_ seeing her like this. He would give anything for her to have her father back.

"Hey, how about I go instead of you?" Mordecai asked.

Margaret whirled with a pitiful "No!" and her father laughed sadly.

"It doesn't work like that pal, it just doesn't. I appreciate the offer, but she needs you more than she needs me now. Yes, my life with her is unfinished, but yours is moreso. Finish it with her." He began to walk backwards into the mist.

"Don't go!" Margaret screamed. "I love you!"

"I love you too." He replied, one last time, disappearing into the mist, towards the four gigantic figures in the gray.

Margaret broke free of Mordecai's arms and ran in the direction he had vanished in.

"Margaret, wait!" He called, running after her.

Margaret ran between the feet of one of the gigantic forms, and found nothing. The gigantic slabs of stone were just that, nothing more. Through the fog, they had resembled men, they had moved and trod the earth like gigantic old men playing ninepins. The rock formations had the general, uncanny shape of men, but now they were still and silent, looking forwards into the nothingness. The magic motions of the place that had been present merely seconds before had ceased, the only memory of what had just been there was a pile of stone balls, several feet around each, neatly stacked in a pyramid, and each as smooth as a marble. All was calm, the thunder-claps rolled no more.

"Where are you!" Margaret cried. There was no answer.

"He's gone, oh Mordecai he's gone!" she turned and ran to Mordecai, who was a few steps behind her.

Mordecai held onto her tightly and looked around at the hallowed place on the mountainside. He knew that when the next storm came, the old stone men would once again fall into motion, the great spheres would roll down the mountain and into the great ninepins, and the thunder would roll again. He gently pulled her away from the place of old lore and wonder. They were not meant to see such things, at least not yet. Margaret cried unrestrainedly as they walked back to Jebediah.

"Come on now." the old miner said, re-assuringly. "Let's get her all fixed up with a warm blanket and a cup of hot somethin'-er-other."

* * *

><p>The fog had lifted. The mountains glowed resplendently in the sunlight, their still-wet sides gleaming from the recent rain. The gorge was filled with the sound of an old car engine.<p>

"Thank you for everything Jebediah." Mordecai saluted the old miner.

"Hey, my pleasure, and I'm glad your friend there got to sort things out."

Margaret leaned on Mordecai, deep in thought.

"I think she'll be okay." Mordecai replied. "Thanks again."

"Good travels to ya, and when you hear the thunder in a rainstorm, now you know where it's comin' from. I'll always be here if you should ever be out this way again."

"Bye!" Mordecai waved.

"Bye!" Jebediah responded, waving his lantern. He watched as the old Lincoln limousine drove back down the dirt road, towards the interstate.

"Margaret?" Mordecai asked.

Margaret didn't answer, she looked at him, crying silently.

"You're gonna be fine, you are gonna be just fine."

* * *

><p><strong>Deep stuff I know, but I felt that I should follow through on that "old men in the mountains" thing, and write it exactly as I pictured it. Whatever, more soon, I promise.<strong>


	21. Cable Ferry

**Hey there folks, this is the very last of the trip chapters. I shant let on what happens next or what they find at the end of the journey. I still think it could have done with more chapters of the trip itself, after all it was nearly across the country, but I did not want things to stagnate or become a bore. This is another short chapter which I think makes a good wrap-up for the journey. Not to worry, more chapters to come.**

**On with the story-**

* * *

><p>Down out of the mountains the two companions rolled. Their eardrums popped every now and again with the rapid descent in altitude as the endless strip of pavement carried them steadily downhill. The mountains turned into high hills, which in turn changed to lower hills, rolling countryside. The evergreen trees changed into the colorful ensemble of autumn, grassy fields and agriculture.<p>

As the miles passed, Margaret began to regain her talkative, perky nature, even though it still masked a deep sadness which had resurfaced from years gone by.

"You're so lucky – to be able to have closure like that, being able to see a lost loved one just one more time." Mordecai consoled her. "You are probably one of the only people who has had that chance."

"I know, but I'm still upset." She replied. "For one moment, one wonderful, beautiful moment, I regained what I had lost, I felt like a little girl again, I felt so safe, and you were there too. And you both...loved me...I didn't want it to go away, I wanted it to stay like that forever."

Mordecai could hear the ache in her heart through her speech. It made his hurt for her.

A highway passed underneath theirs as the car mounted a sturdy girder bridge. It continued off to the left and right, quite a more substantially built road than this part of eighty eight was. Eight lanes of black pavement moving into the distance forever. To their left, they could see the skyline of a city, hazy and purplish in the cloudy dark of the morn, covered with twinkling red and gold lights. They had been traveling for three days straight since they had left the little mountain holdout of Jebediah, and had slept in the car. They both smelled of Listerine and cheap-grade cleaners they had used on eachother clothes during that time, and were both very stiff. The city was blotted out by passing trees, and the road ascended a hill up towards a lone watertower.

"Just a little ways left to go, isn't this exciting? We might just make it there today!" Mordecai said, cheerily.

"Just wherever _there_ is." Margaret replied, sadly. "I hope this wasn't a wild goose chase."

"It can't be, we've been through too much already."

* * *

><p>The sun came up in a blaze of glory in front of them, directly eastward. Steam swirled off the wet road as the pavement heated up. Traffic was sparse, a few cars rushed past in the opposite direction, and a truck followed behind them a good ways off.<p>

The flat grassy lands of the Midwest had long since given way to the rolling countryside of the inland Eastern region, which Mordecai and Margaret had never seen before in person. Autumn was at it's absolute zenith, the trees were filled with colors, as if the entire land was painted with a gigantic brush, spreading oil paint of the warmest colors.

The old Lincoln rode the interstate easily. Here, the road wound around hills instead of going over or through them most of the time, more like a country road than a proper interstate. Still, the speed limits were just as high, and Mordecai skirted the curves in high gear.

A large sign approached. "Passamaquod River, 0.8 Miles, Cable Ferry"

"Cable ferry?" Mordecai asked. "What in the world is a cable ferry?" He felt stupid, it would be something Alex would know. What he didn't suspect was that it would also be something Margaret would know.

"Ohhh I love cable ferries, Dad and I used to take one across a small river just outside of our old town." Margaret responded. "The guy who ran it was always so nice, it's just a boat that tows itself across a river on a cable. Oh I hope this one is like the one I remember."

* * *

><p>They wound out of the dense woodland, by a crooked telephone pole where the wires simply ended, and onto the bank of a wide, fast flowing, shimmering river.<p>

Steaming diligently across it was the long, flat-topped hull, boiler and chimney and large scarlet paddlewheel of a steam-driven cable ferry.

"Oh it is, it _is_ just like the one I remember!" Margaret exclaimed. "Although ours was way smaller, and newer."

The old paddle-barge looked cobbled together, a tremendous flat-topped, flat-sided hull with almost no hydrodynamic shape to it crowned with a small deckhouse, next to which towered a large vertical boiler that busily fed steam into an upright two-cylinder beam engine. The engine turned a complex arrangement of gigantic old black gears, slathered with grease, which were hooked to winding wheels and a gigantic old paddlewheel painted bright red. At either end of the vessel was a hinged ramp, both hooked to quite jury-rigged looking cable assemblies on trusses. The old machine gave a quick blast on its almost offensively loud and un-poetic whistle as it drew near the riverbank, slowing as it did.

Mordecai rolled the car down the riverbank on the concrete of the ferry landing, behind a faded yellow painted line.

The ferry drew to a gradual halt feet from the riverbank. An old man in a fishing hat stepped out of the wooden deckhouse and strolled up to a windlass, one of two such devices on either end of the ship, and began to crank. The steel ramp came to rest on the river landing with a soft grating noise.

"Come on aboard!" the old man greeted in a gruff but welcoming fashion. "And whatever you do don't steer too far left or right, some moron dropped his Astro-van in the drink just a week ago!" He pointed to the rear bumper and barely visible submerged tail-lights of a Chevy van in the river.

Margaret was taken quite off guard by the remark and the almost instant and surprising clarification, and started laughing. Mordecai raised an eyebrow and carefully drove onto the deck of the ferry.

"Not that that old Astro was anything special, but I wouldn't want to see _this_ beauty take a swim!" The man said. "Well, welcome aboard the _Industrious_, the last steam-driven cable ferry still in service in all of this great land!" He gestured about with his hands. "Come on out while I get us going, it's a bit of a trip across the river."

Mordecai shut off the engine and got out of the car, stiffly, as did Margaret.

"It's good to meet you mister...mister..." Mordecai began.

"Oh, Ted's the name, Ted Underfield, just call me Ted." The man replied. "Although around these parts I'm known as Mister U the old steam-cabler, pleasure to make your acquaintance."

"Good to meet you mister Underfield, I'm Mordecai, and this is Margaret." Mordecai replied.

"Bah, like I said call me Ted, it's easier on the mouth...or beak in your case, if ya don't mind me sayin so of course."

"It's funny, we've had a lot of run-in's with steam driven things lately." Margaret related.

"Oh is that so?" Ted asked. "Well good on you, not much of that left around these days, unless of course you're headed down the end of eighty-eight."

"Yes, actually we are." Mordecai said. "We're going right down to the ocean, we took the advice of this young boy named Alex, he said it would be a good place for a fresh start."

"Well he's right." Ted replied, grinning "I bet he kept it a surprise then didn't he?"

"Yeah he did." Mordecai responded. "Everyone we've asked about it has, either that or they just don't know."

"Ah, then who am I to ruin it." Ted grinned wider. "This young Alex fellow, his full name wouldn't happen to be Alexander Karnes would it? And he just wouldn't happen to be quite the up and coming young steam-engineer, would he?"

Mordecai's eyes widened.

"Bahahahahaha!" laughed Ted. "My god that kid gets around, where are you two out of anyway?"

"Way back that way." Mordecai replied. Over the mountains, across the plains, almost clear across the country.

"Well if that don't beat all. That kid comes around here all the time, he helps me out with old Industrious here."

"You say this is the last steam-driven cable ferry in America?" Margaret asked.

"Probably the last one in the world, they weren't that common to _begin_ with!" Ted replied. "And it'll damn well stay that way if I have anything to do with it, I love this job. See most of these were manually operated or are now diesel powered, the steam-era kinda skipped cable-ferries. Cablers as a whole are vanishing everywhere, and it's pretty uncommon to see em' on main roads anymore. Personally I have never seen another one on an inter-state like this, I don't even think it's allowed anymore, and yet me and Industrious here still chug across our river like we always have."

Ted suddenly realized he had let the ferry stand on the riverbank.

"Ah, sorry, we'd better get movin'!"

He moved swiftly over to the deck-house and ran around behind it. Mordecai and Margaret followed, watching the now familiar actions of a steam engineer with interest. Ted scooped a few shovels of coal from a bunker into the gaping firedoor of the vertical boiler, and brought a water-injector to life. He then deftly shot oil around the moving parts of the beam engine, put steam to it and started it turning. He grasped a large lever amongst a set of levers and gave a pull. A large friction-clutch within the mass of great gears screeched as it engaged, spinning the big gear assembly and the winding wheels and paddlewheel which they were attatched to. Water splashed about the paddlewheel and the great cable rose out of the water with tension, the ferry began to move. Ted blew the whistle three times as the engine picked up speed.

"Yep see this here is a combination drive, all reversing is done by clutching and geared together, it pulls on the cable _and_ hydrodynamically propels the ship with the paddlewheel. It's a bit redundant, but it's worked fine for the past seventy years. See this way, when maintenance time comes, I can de-rig the ship from the cable, put down one of the rudders at either end and sail it up river like a _proper_ ship to the delta, and then coast to where the drydock is. Sometimes if an important vehicle or somfin' needs to go somewhere other than where the cable runs, I can do the same thing and take him to one of the unused landings up or down river."

He then shut off the injector, looked over the boiler gauges, and went into the deckhouse. There, he put a checkmark on a piece of paper on a clipboard, listing the day's number of crossings, checked his time, wrote it and strode back out.

"So you two are headed down to the ocean?" He asked.

"Yep." Mordecai replied. "I've never seen it, and Margaret here hasn't either, it's been her dream to see it. What's it like?"

Ted grinned again.

"Indescribable." He said. "It's not like any river or stream, I cant possibly relate it to you, you've gotta _see_ it. Endless flat blue, the land ends once and for all, maybe straggles on a bit with rocks and jetties with the low tide, but that's all. And over that ocean, on that beautiful horizon, in come the winds which talk to you and beckon you away to far away lands and places. The people who live by it, like me, their...our heads are full of stories that the sea tells us. They tell you of great merchant ships which come by night filled with wonderful things from places far away, great feasts when the fishermen come in. I tell you, there is nothing like life by the edge of the world. On the rare occasions I take Industrious here to be drydocked, I have to take her out on the sea a little ways to the next port town that has a drydock, incidentally where you are headed yourselves. When Industrious and I are out on the sea on a twilit eve, let me tell you it is absolute heaven. Get the big old searchlights up on the deckhouse all lit up, and put a flame in the oil-wick running lanterns, quite a sight we make."

Industrious steamed on, across the wide river. The ferry plodded close to an island in the middle of the river, slightly down stream of it. Birds took off from an old buoy crowned with an amber lantern and a large orange sign which warned boaters to "Be Aware of The Cable".

* * *

><p>The ferry chugged on, and Ted told story after story. Margaret's eyes shined, and all were disappointed as Industrious drew near the opposite bank. The autumn shore sparkled in the morning light, seeming to have just slightly more luster than the previous shore.<p>

"Thanks for the ride Ted, what's the crossing fee?" Mordecai asked.

"None, zip, zilch and Zero." Ted replied. "Public Service, It's the least I can do for this old interstate, after all Industrious and I are a _part_ of it. I get my money from the D-O-T."

Ted brought Industrious to a gentle halt and disengaged the many clutches.

"And take care of that car of yours." He added as an afterthought. "That's a living piece of history right there, just like this old ferryboat...and me." He laughed.

"Will do!" Mordecai replied.

"Oh and one more thing." Ted continued, lowering the ramp onto the river landing. "When you get there, tell them Alex sent you, and that you know the old steam-cabler mister Underfield, they'll warm _right_ up to ya. It's like one big extended family. You'll be seeing me around, the place you are headed is the place I call home."

"Thank you!" Mordecai and Margaret bade the old ferryman goodbye.

The Lincoln limousine rolled down the ramp and onto the landing, away from the river. Ted whistled goodbye to them from the deck of Industrious.

* * *

><p>Through the trees they drove, up and over a small wooded hill where the trees on one side of the road gave way to rolling fields of golden barleycorn, run through with aged, rusted old high-tension power line towers.<p>

Margaret looked back at the shimmering water though the trees. She had felt a crossing as the little ferry had waded them over the river. They were not a part of the world they had once belonged to, that world had lost it's clawing, desperate grip on them on that first fateful day when she had seen the immense and elegant Wanderer pass overhead in the haze of the morn. All the things she and her lover had seen and done since the coming of the great airship, the airship which had come steaming out from the other, more beautiful world, where golden days still occurred, the past and constants in one's life were still valued, where love was still simple, had been moving they themselves into that world. Their crossing was now complete, the little cable-ferry Industrious and her equally industrious pilot had seen to that. Margaret no longer saw a cruel, hideous world out the windows of the car, she saw a beautiful world, a world of joy that she could wrap herself up in like a blanket. Mordecai drove on.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Notes:<strong>

**Well...not really any _notes_ persay. Just fear not, that was by no means the end of the story, merely the end of their journey. What comes next is the destination, of which I have been pining to write about since the beginning the story, as the idea has been firmly stuck in my head and developing for a good long while. More soon.**

**-LeninWerke**


	22. Rainbow's End

A localized rainstorm had set itself upon the car. It was refreshingly cool and humid, the sun shewn gold through thin, misty clouds. The rain was more like a falling mist than a true rain, it gave the sky a brassy, shiny feel to it, like the air itself was made of gold. Mordecai opened the windows and let the little droplets of water swirl about them through the car. They were coming out of it, it had been more of a rain a half-hour ago. The road had slowly narrowed until it was again but a two-lane strip with a double yellow line inbetween.

"Mordecai?" Margaret asked.

"Yeah Sweetheart?" he replied.

"I – I feel weird, I've never felt like this before. It feels like...if we go a little further, we'll fall off the edge of the world."

Mordecai knew what she meant. He had a deep tingling in the pit of his stomach. He wondered if he was just nervousness, but he had been nervous before. This was a much more deep-seated feeling, more comfortable and adventurous than it was anything else. He felt like he was descending towards something, something very large. Why or how he knew this he could not say.

Over the trees on the next horizon was pure sky, with what appeared to be nothing beyond it. Suddenly, an orange barrier along the side of the road. The pavement in front of them suddenly ended, cracking, plating and then just coming to an abrupt and un-ceremonious cessation.

Directly parallel to this stop in the pavement was a large yellow sign, marked for the D.O.T. of the state. It declared in bold black letters:

"**INTERSTATE 88 ENDS"**

The road changed from well-layed pavement to hard-packed dirt and stone, two wide wheeltracks with a mound in the center tufted with weeds, grass and scrub-flowers, flanked on either side by tall beige and brown grasses.

"That was it huh?" Mordecai looked back. The Interstate had ended, this was the bitter end of the great cross-country stretch of the fabled eighty-eight, which wound through cities, towns, deserts, mountains, ending quietly and wearily in a field of barley with not so much as an off ramp or intersection. It was the sheer end which struck Mordecai the most, like a great river trickling out and dying in the middle of a field. It was so profound. And yet, he carefully drove on, unflinching.

The dirt road, much more synonymous with the countryside which it rolled through than the paved interstate, continued on, flanked on the left by trees of scarlet, gold and amber, and on the right by an open field through which the mist blew.

* * *

><p>Another sign approached, an old one, shaped like a "V".<p>

"Railroad Crossing Ahead" It read in black letters with little inset glass reflectors.

Over the road, on a decidedly old and hastily-made grade-crossing, ran two sets of railroad tracks, not even boarded over. The dirt of the road had simply been shoveled up around and between the rails and packed down.

The tracks were old and rusted, the ties were dark creosoted wood. Two tracks crossed the road and continued off to the left, and to the right, into the field, soon conjoined into one track via a switch. A switchstand stood next to it, a set of colorful targets crowned with a lantern sitting on top of it. Telegraph poles ran parallel to the tracks, their multitudes of colorful glass insulators glinting in the sunlight and holding up scores of wires. A pole rose out of the ground in front of the tracks, atop which was an old electrical box, protruding from which was a very odd something which appeared to be a signal. A black-cross haired bullz-eye panel with a glaring red light at it's center wigged and wagged back and forth on the end of a stick who's end pivoted from a motor in the box. Back and forth it went, a bell clanging at the end of each swing. Below this was a large black sign that stated;

"**Stop when swinging, 2 Tracks. Look & Listen for the Locomotive."**

As Mordecai drew the car up to the tracks, he stopped in accordance with the odd little signal.

Margaret watched the weird little device tirelessly swing back and forth, clanging, and started to find it quite hilarious. She at first tried to stifle her laughter, for it really was quite stupid, but failed.

She broke out in peels of uproarious laughter.

"What?" Mordecai asked, raising an eyebrow.

"That...ohohoheheheheeee, that stupid little thing, look at it! Heehehehehe! Look at it go!"

Mordecai looked at the odd little signal again, trying to see what was so funny. It leered down at him, swinging back and forth, incessantly ringing, glaring at him with it's red light. On about the twentieth swing, the utter absurdity of it struck Mordecai, and he too suddenly and, rather violently, burst out laughing. The two lovers sat there in the idling car, being berated by the swinging signal, laughing themselves to suffocation. They did this for a good while until they were jolted out of their intense laughter by a loud noise.

A steam whistle cut the morning air, blasting across the countryside, long, powerful, and with a frustrated tone.

Mordecai and Margaret instantly quieted themselves and looked out the windows of the car.

Steaming up from their right was quite a procession indeed. A blue caboose lead the train, being pushed from behind by a seething black steam locomotive, a sleek and elegant Atlantic type painted almost all black. Behind this were a couple of mismatched freightcars. Mordecai, having talked to Alex enough to know what was typical and what was absurd, began laughing again, especially as he saw the crew of the train as it drew near the crossing.

Men were piled all over the locomotive and caboose it pushed, motley old men in large boots, fishing hats and coats, gloves, plaid work shirts buttoned all the way up to their collars, bowties, caps and stovepipe hats all clung to the grab irons of the train. They were armed with such things as long poles, cheese-graters, hooks, pick-axes, hammers and briefcases. One man looked like quite the respectable businessman, save the idiotic expression on his face, his maroon and gold pinstriped tie billowing in the wind out behind him and hitting the next man in the face. As the caboose passed, the glaring lanterns of the locomotive flared into their eyesight for an instant. Another man on the frontbeam waved at them and pointed towards them, looking towards the cab. All manner of shouts and exclamations filled the air as the train crew shouted to eachother, half drowned out by the noise of the locomotive's pistons and furiously working airpump. The engineer and fireman leaned out of the red windowframe cab windows, gesturing back to the man up front, and jovially shouting unintelligible things towards the car.

In a mass of shining black, gigantic whirling wheels and flailing rods, the locomotive hissed past, followed by two freightcars. A staved flatcar carried huge steel I-beams, and behind this a green-sided gondola carried a vast assortment of lumber. A rather despondent looking man in a straw hat and overalls sat on the tailboard of the last car, holding a red lantern and chewing on a piece of something.

And in a flash, the train and it's animate locomotive and crew had disappeared into the trees, a thick black plume of smoke being the only trace of it ever being there.

"What the..." Margaret asked in utter astonishment and exasperation.

"I...I don't exactly know." Mordecai replied. "But...I'd say we've just found some of _Alex's_ friends."

Margaret giggled, then suddenly gasped.

"Oh Mordecai, look! Look there!"

She pointed ahead, over the tracks, past the signal – which had stopped its frantic swinging and fallen silent – and into the row of trees ahead of them, namely above it.

A gigantic and vibrant rainbow, the likes of which Mordecai had never seen, hung clear in the sky. A full rainbow to be exact, both the inner and outer rings were present and vibrant, their colors inversing to eachother. Violet to red, red to violet.

"Mordecai, oh isn't it beautiful?"

Mordecai didn't have the words at the moment. He had seen a rainbow before, but this one seemed rather special, and the way Margaret seemed enthralled by it, it must have been. He drove on.

* * *

><p>Through a row of trees which ran alongside the railroad tracks, and out of a thicket of brush. The road ascended a steep, grassy hill. Mordecai put the car in low gear and ran up it.<p>

Up and up they went, into brighter sky, the rainbow a shallow arch ahead of them, just peeking over the high horizon.

Margaret leaned forward with the climb. She _yearned_ to see what was just over the hill, and she longed that it would not just be another hill.

"Margaret, no matter what we find out there, promise me we will share it?" Mordecai asked as they neared the top.

"I promise." Margaret smiled, millions of butterflies in her stomach.

The car crested the hill. They both inhaled sharply at what they saw.

"_If All be told, was turned to gold_

_If all the dream was new-_

_Imagine sky, high above_

_In Caribbean blue."_

Down the hill the land coasted away from them. Down and down it coasted until it came to a sharp end in jagged cliffsides, the faces of which could only be made out when they cracked and turned inwards toward themselves in rapid little jut-outs. A final line of beautifully painted autumn trees graced the high cliffsides and in little clusters out in the fields. The horizon did not end in the land. Past two lighthouses, the first of which Mordecai or Margaret had ever seen, rising like sentinels from behind the edge of the cliffs, rose the soft, blue ocean. A flat sheet of shimmering azure blue, deeper than any blue they had ever seen before, sparkling gold in the light of the eastern rising sun as if a sheet of translucent metal had been perfectly layed atop it. It continued on forever out until it met the sky in a flawless horizon line. Little caps of white could be seen moving slowly in towards the unseen shore, obscured below by the cliffs. Out to either side the ocean extended on forever and ever, never stopping. The air smelled of salt and spray.

Margaret began to cry. She looked out to what her eyes and heart had been so hungry for, and were so rapidly filling with. She cried openly.

Mordecai was too astounded even to comfort her. He had to get closer, he had to see it personally, to shake hands with the glorious vision, to touch it.

He drove forwards, right into the center of the rainbow, which was now almost a full circle, ever further away as he drove closer to it.

Down the hill he went, putting the car in neutral and coasting with the land, down the beautiful road to the edge of the earth.

The road twisted left to a crack in the cliffs, towards the two lighthouses.

Margaret's tears continued to fall as he went. Soon the car had descended down the hill to a point where the ocean was no longer visible, to which Margaret's sobbing became more fervent.

"Oh Mordecai, please, take me to it, take me down to see it."

Mordecai slowed the car only once, to take a look at an old sign which lay by the roadside.

"**The Historic Port Town of Twin Lights Welcomes You **

**Population 2352**

**Drydocks available for lease to Any Party, Inquire at Town Hall"**

Mordecai let go of the brakes and headed down the hill.

The road plunged down a crack in the cliffside, steep walls of stone rising to either side, and right down it's wedge shaped center, the blue of the ocean could be seen. Down and down they went until the road suddenly emerged from the shadows, back into the sunlight.

The road descended along the almost sheer vertical face of the seaside cliff upon a ledge neatly carved into it. To their left, a rock wall hundreds of feet high. To their right, a sheltered cove, a bustling port town, two lighthouses the likes and size of which they had never seen before, and beyond, the sea.

The ledge dipped down at a sharp angle. The cliffside formed a gigantic "C" around the harbor, which was snugly set in the center upon the shallow rocks and beaches. On each protruding precipice and step in the cliff-face grew thick, colorful autumn trees, their leaves drifting down through the air over the harbor. Clinging to the cliff faces on either side of the gigantic letter C, at different heights, were the biggest concrete and stone foundations Mordecai and Margaret had ever seen, tremendous boxy things which anchored themselves at the bottom of the cliffs and climbed up their sides, exposing their intricate masonry and brickwork, and at their tops, each supporting a gigantic lighthouse, rising a further few hundred feet above the cliffsides. The car rolled down the ledge road, slowly making its way around the C. The little cove was sheltered, but had a wide opening through which the ocean was clearly visible, a small set of wave-retaining seawalls at the harbor's border, with a gap between them. Ships of all sorts filled the harbor, small yachts, sailboats, a schooner, launches, skiffs, scows, barges, tugs, and even the gigantic flat-topped hull of a container ship. The harbor was protruded into with many piers, docks and shiplifts. Cranes and smokestacks stuck up high into the air, brick and metal-sided buildings lay about the bustling dockyards. Three enormous drydocks, one occupied by a massive vessel, sat carved into the harbor rock itself. Further back from the water and industry lay beautiful and picturesque houses and town buildings, some built upon a large wharf and some simply sitting on top of the water on great stilts. A few small fields lay about below, a railroad yard, and a few trees. All this overshadowed by the great cliffs on all sides.

"Mordecai...is this home? Is this our new home?" Margaret asked, dumfounded.

Mordecai looked at the little red dot on the map which smiled up at him.

"Yeah...I think it is." He replied.

They reached the bottom of the cliffs, descending below the rooftops of the town and a brand new horizontal perspective, the massive rock walls and the two great light towers looming over them. They could now make out a dense network of telegraph and electrical poles interlaced with a great deal of out-dated wiring. They could see a tall water tower, covered with the colorful inscripture of some old industry. They could now see the masts of the waterfront rising into the air.

The road turned away from the cliffside and onto the rocky ground of the harbor in between. Here, a tunnel bored right into the cliff wall spat out a set of railroad tracks, which joined with the dirt road and ran right in it, only the railheads and flange troughs exposed over the tightly packed dirt and rock. The wooden poles along the side of the road had long, thin wrought iron jut-outs which supported a cable over the road itself.

There was an incessant clanging from behind them.

A dull orange trolley-car was humming up behind them and glaring at them with its headlamp. Mordecai swerved and the old tram rolled past, quite indifferently, clanging as it went. It was old, wood-sided and exquisitely painted, pinstriped and dazzlingly lettered for its road-name.

Into town they went, each doorstep, shutter and front door calling out to them of an old New England port-town. The road reached an intersection and suddenly became laiden with cobblestones. The tracks switched here and divided.

Children played in the street with a shaggy black dog, a woman sat arranging flowers outside a small storefront. A shoe-shiner busily polished a man's shoe as his customer read a newspaper. Copper sewer lids glared up at them as they passed. The whole town was filled with a strange and wonderful procession of people from both the present day and what seemed to be times long since past. A man on a bench typed upon a whirring laptop computer whilst the man next to him wore an old bowler hat with its top punched out, and busily chopped up a piece of baguette and was feeding it to a group of seagulls. To the right, the wrought iron gate to a large cemetery right under the cliffside, to the left, a pier with several derelict ships up in drydock.

"Mordecai, take me down to see the water, I need to see it, drive towards the rainbow."

Mordecai did so, taking a left turn at the next intersection and into the thick of the industrial part of town. They drove into a large square, which was really a large dirt lot surrounded by buildings where several sets of railroad track converged and crossed eachother. A large mass of signals was suspended overhead on an iron gantry which looked a hundred years old. The signals were both for trains and for traffic trying to negotiate the square. Flashers oscillated red and a large board with incandescent bulbs forming arrows indicated on which track the train was approaching.

The steam locomotive they had seen at the crossing no more than fifteen minutes ago sat at the edge of the square, creeping forwards with one of its freightcars. Mordecai hastily drove in front of the locomotive and down another road out of the yard.

Past the shipyards they went, buildings grew in size and in ragamuffin appearance, and then, with a smathering of poles, posts and scrap-metal, the buildings ended. The road was unturned dirt and the tracks veered away. They were nearing the edge of the gigantic semicircle of cliffsides, near its right-end tip. A beach lay ahead of them, and Mordecai was amazed and awestruck to see that the gigantic rainbow's end touched down upon it. In all his life he had never seen a rainbow behave that way. It had since they first seen it, moved away as they had gotten closer, always just over the horizon, but now they drew near the gigantic arc in the sky, visibly approaching it, as if it were tangible and physically there.

"But...that's impossible..." He mumbled as the tired old car drew up to the beach, from which sprung a small jetty and the end of the wave-retaining wall which shot out into the ocean toward the other end of the cove. He stopped the car at the bitter end of the road, where the heavy dirt turned to impassable sand.

An overturned rowboat lay next to an abandoned and rusted wheelbarrow, which was overturned. A little ways on, an equally forlorn old pickup truck lay rusting in the sand. Right where the land met the lapping water, the glorious ribbon of different hues touched the ground. Mordecai stopped the engine, and Margaret jumped out the car door. She ran towards it, stopped, and ran back to Mordecai, who was slowly getting out of the car. She grabbed his wing and pulled at it, frantically.

"Come with me, come with me!" She cried joyfully, tears still streaming down her face, tears which had not stopped since she had caught her first glimpse of the ocean.

She pulled him as fast as she could, she was in a desperate, all-out sprint. Her dream lay mere yards away.

A warm sensation covered the both of them as she pulled him under the end of the glorious arc of light, the end of the rainbow. Their eyes were filled with the saturated hues and colors, everything around them appeared splendid and painted, like in all the illustrated books and surreal paintings they had ever seen. The sea and world around them shimmered with all the known colors, and shades they had never seen before, shades they did not know the names of, colors they had thought did not, could not exist.

Margaret giggled through her hot tears as the seawater came splashing up the beach to meet her, running through her feet and toes in froth and bubbles. Mordecai reached to her, pulled her towards him, kissed her deeply.

The wonderful light around them began to fade. The air grew dryer, the rainbow began to disappear. Mordecai watched as it's end lifted from the ground, and observed the great arc in the sky above him, disappearing back to its far-away place of origin, a land made of far more magic than the world they walked.

Margaret quickly worked her shirt over her shoulders, exposing her fair bosom, and threw it to Mordecai, who caught it dazedly. She then took a running leap forward, and dove into the frothing water.

Mordecai watched as she disappeared under the blue foamy swells, and then re-emerged, blasting to the surface and panting and laughing from the shock of cold water. her laughter rang across the water back to him.

"Mordecai, oh Mordecai, come in, come in with me!" She called. "It's better than the river, is so much better than the river!" A wave from behind dunked her head under and she bobbed up again, speechless with mirth.

Mordecai sat down on the sand and watched her. He hadn't felt sand beneath his feet since his young school days at the old playground, and yet he always felt there was something missing. Now he realized what the thing that was missing was, the sea. Driftwood lay here and there, rocks and stones lined the tide height of the water. He did not see Margaret come running up out of the water behind him, torn-off jeans on and that was all, until she had tackled him and had dragged him in. He gasped as the freezing water swirled around him, but in a few seconds his body numbed and began to become accustomed to this new temperature. The water was alive, churning, ebbing and surging all around him. The sea greeted him playfully. Unlike Margaret who naturally floated, however, he naturally sunk, and having never swam in the ocean before, was finding keeping his head above the water's surface, and struggled back toward the shore.

He pulled himself up on the beach and breathed hard, letting the rising morning sun evaporate the water which trickled down through his feathers. The clouds above were sparse and white, the smell of a wood-fire came to him from the far off town. Looking straight up, it was nothing but blue sky, rimmed at the edge of his peripheral vision by the top of the cliffside and one of the massive towering lighthouses.

He lay face up on the beach, still breathing hard, his wind slowly coming back to him. He could hear Margaret, still splashing about in the sea. Suddenly he felt a small tingling sensation on his chest, he tilted his head forward and did his best to stifle the reaction of surprise. He looked into the beady, squinting eyes of something he had previously only seen impaled in resturants.

A small sand-crab stood on his chest just below his neck, looking at him intently and with much expression indeed plastered on it's expressionless "face". It almost looked like it was silently accusing him of something, that and examining him with much scrutiny at the same time.

"Hey there." He greeted the strange little being, hesitantly.

It gyrated back and forth on its six little legs in reply.

"You gonna say anything?"

At this, the crab gyrated back and forth furiously, as if it was indeed _trying_ to say something.

Margaret came up out of the foaming swells, and fell back laughing as she saw her lover and the tiny sand crab staring at eachother, furthermore when Mordecai said;

"It seems to really hate it when I talk!"

The crab banged its own shell with its claws and ran in a circle.

"God, it really does!" Mordecai laughed. "Get a load of this!"

The crab swatted at him with a claw and sprinted off his chest and onto the sand, where it vanished from sight.

"Blehahem." Said someone. Mordecai looked up and Margaret whirled.

An older man stood at the edge of the water in a yellow fisherman's hat and coat, an old dingy pulled up on the sand which had not been there before.

"You folks new here?" He asked. "Funny, we don't often get tourists."

"Yeah." Mordecai said. "Yeah we're um...mov – well we want to start a new life here."

The old man raised an eyebrow. "You do eh? Well look that's all good and fine, but you might wanna put on some clothes there, young lady. Look im not – im impartial on that kinda stuff, but this ain't California, you cant just go runnin' around with...well all loose like that. I'm just tellin' you here and now before someone who aint as easy-going comes along, like the town constable."

Margaret flushed a deep red and shielded herself with her arms. "Sorry, sorry." She mumbled, embarrassed, just then remembering that she indeed had nothing on.

"Well no harm done here." The old fisherman said understandingly, tipping his hat. "I got my fair share of an eyeful for the day, lets just leave it at that. I'd stay and talk more but I've got to be into the harbor, my sister's waiting for me."

He trudged off, and Mordecai helped Margaret put her shirt back on.

"Sorry, I just kinda forgot myself, seeing the ocean, I just lost it." Margaret stuttered, still embarrassed.

"Hey, your dream came true, what else would you do?" Mordecai beamed at her. "Come on, let's go see our new home."

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Notes:<strong>

**Still not quite the end, dont y'all worry. **

**-LeninWerke**


	23. Our Old Town

**Folks, let me apologize for the immense wait for the new chapter. College and steam-power have been eating me alive lately, so I have been working on the story in fits and starts. That, and a bit of writers-block too.**

**Not to worry, I am still at it, if only very slowly!**

**Enjoy-**

* * *

><p>After obtaining directions from a carpenter busily at work on a rooftop, Mordecai and Margaret drove up in front of an imposing brick-faced building with a large cupola crowned with a small golden dome and an ornate weathervane.<p>

"This is it, it's do or die." Mordecai turned to Margaret. "We'll either find some place to work and live, or we'll be shot down by property that costs too much and everyone already having every helping hand they need here."

"This place looks pretty well established." Margaret replied uneasily. "Not really the kind of place to just take in travelers."

"Who knows, we might be surprised."

They stepped in through the huge oaken doors, and were met with something neither of them planned for.

A stately and well-made desk sat in the middle of a marble floor marked with a compass rose underneath a high, painted ceiling. Behind the desk, the most shriveled old man either of the two companions had ever seen shrieked, ranted and raved at the most shriveled old woman they had ever seen.

"I don't care if you want your revenue reports color-coded _and_ alphabetized, my methods are good enough and I always get you what you ask for!" Cawed the old woman, slightly rolling her "R's".

"If you shall not do it then I shall have you fired!" The man replied.

"Oh you, the Town Clerk and your high and mighty ways, you must have made that threat to me a thousand times!"

"You're services are no longer required!"

"Oh but wait, I feel a sudden _urge_ to do exactly as you asked! You say you wanted color-coded, how about some nice black for the drydock forms to start with..."

The old woman shakily unscrewed her inkpot, grinning fiendishly.

"Put that ink down you Optometrically challenged fool!" The old man hissed.

The old woman, presumably his secretary, with a deft and subtle motion, dunked a fistful of rolled up papers into the inkpot on her desk.

The man's face turned nearly as black as the ink itself.

"Oh I'm sorry, you didn't want ink? Let me fix that, my mistake!"

The secretary picked up something quite out of place in the neat and tidy marble foyer, a grungy old can of deck-paint. She opened worked at the lid furiously with her fountain pen until it shot off and frisbeed across the room, revealing barf-colored paint of the highest quality and gloss.

"Here, this looks like the perfect color for the water-usage plots!" Said the secretary, gleefully dunking another fistful of papers into the paint can.

The old man, whose face had been giving the signs of being pressurized from behind, wrinkling further and further and his eyes drawing back into his head behind black rings, suddenly and violently let his rage fly in the form of his denchers, which shot from his mouth at great velocity and propelled him backwards into his chair.

The pair of denchers ricocheted into the open paint can, causing a splash of vomit-colored liquid, some of which covered the lenses of the secretary's glasses, who shrieked and began stumbling about.

The old man whirled toward Margaret and Mordecai.

"May I herp you?" He asked, his face still compressed into itself.

They both were silent, beaks agape.

"I am miffer Langwhanffe...fown f-clerf." He struggled through his toothless mouth.

"You...you say you're the town clerk?" Mordecai asked.

There was the noise of the paint-blinded secretary slamming into something in the background.

"YEFF." The man shrieked. He turned. "Agafa, mah teef!"

She took no heed, she just kept aimlessly stumbling around in a small area of wreckage which slowly grew as she collided with drawers, cabinets and desks.

"Imma terrifly solly for refent stafe of affairf, howeffer I muft infift thaf you refurn af a lafer fime when I may silenfe this imcomfefent..._wench!"_ the Clerk struggled especially hard to annunciate the last word.

A wooden desk drawer hurtled across the room from the direction of the secretary, striking the clerk in the back of his head and disintegrating gloriously all around it in many directions like a grotesque, splintery sunburst.

He did not fall or stutter, he just whirled around toward the laughing old woman who was still blindly stumbling about, and shot one of his eyeballs at her with the sound of an opening cork.

"Was that a glass eye?" Margaret whimpered, eyes wide.

"I don't know!" Mordecai responded. "Let's get outta here!"

Without looking back, the two companions sprinted out of the stately old building.

Mordecai ran clean into a man on the steps outside who had been sweeping, and they both went sprawling.

"Oh my god I'm so sorry!" Mordecai said, dusting himself off and helping the man up. to his surprise, the man began to laugh, straightening his old cap.

"Are they fighting again?" He asked.

Mordecai nodded dumbly.

"I knew it by your face, you must be new around here!" he replied. "Don't worry, once mister Langwaithe gets his teeth back things should calm down...unless he's shot his trick eye out, he only does that when he's _really_ mad..."

Mordecai didn't know quite what to say.

"It's good to meet you mister..." Margaret ventured

The man extended a worn but young hand.

"Felix is the name, good to know you."

"Mister Felix." Mordecai repeated.

"Noho no, Felix is the first name. Just call me Felix." He grinned. "I'm the lamp-lighter, and this time of year I'm also the street-sweeper. The rest of the time I'm just a simple harborman!"

Mordecai studied the young man closely. He looked just that, young, but battered by his surroundings. His face was that of youth dashed with soot stains, a scar or two, and lines of laughter below his eyes and at the corners of his mouth. The old cap he wore was tilted slightly to one side, giving him an oddly wise and welcoming appearance.

"I'm Mordecai, nice to know you." The bluejay responded. "This is Margaret."

"You two an item?" Felix asked. Both avians went red.

"Yes, we are." Mordecai responded, still not used to saying so.

Felix's face broke into an absurdly wide grin. Mordecai and Margaret were so taken aback by the charismatic and sudden facial expression that they both burst out laughing. Felix joined in.

"I'm sorry!" Margaret blithered through her mirth. "You just remind me so much of a friend of a good friend of ours."

"And who would that be?" Felix asked.

"Alex is his name. Really wonderfully weird, dauntless little guy who works with steam engines." Mordecai replied.

"What, steam-nut Alex? Blahahaha, I know him all to well! He comes by this town whenever he can."

"Of _course_ he does." Mordecai nodded.

"So, is that your Lincoln?" Felix ventured.

* * *

><p>"Well the <em>best<em> way to see this place is from the air, of course." Felix said as he directed Mordecai up a long hill drive. "We shall pay a visit to old Benjamin."

"Benjamin?" Margaret asked.

"One of the lighthouse keepers." Felix responded. "You will love this guy, such a steady individual, he is one-hundred years old and has been keeping this light since he was twenty years old, like his father before him."

"A century old, imagine that!" Mordecai shook his head. "That is a long time to live."

"Better be careful around that age, or Alex might snatch you up and put you in his basement with the rest of his centenary-and-older collections!" said Felix.

Both Avians burst into intense laughter, along with their friend, as they could completely understand, and further, completely _picture_ the scrawny little engineer doing just that to some un-suspecting old man or woman.

* * *

><p>Mordecai, as directed by Felix, brought the old limousine to a stop on a narrow ledge overlooking a several-hundred foot drop down a pale cliff face, over chimneys, telegraph poles and haphazardly stacked buildings to the water of the cove. The lighthouse towered a good two-hundred feet above them.<p>

"And here we are, one of the two towers precariously perched upon a protruding precipice propagating passage of ship traffic!" Felix carefully recited.

Margaret and Mordecai stifled their mirth at the tactful bombardment of alliteration.

"This is one of our two lights, as you have probably figured out by now. They were originally shorter towers with range-lights, just shining all the time, and then around eighteen-seventy these two tall, elegant towers were built and fitted with mechanically-turned Fresnel lenses, making the code-beacons which they still are today, one-hundred and twenty years later. They have guided in millions of ships to safe passage, beit in or passing, we have seen any and all things come in between our shining lamps."

Mordecai looked up at the immense structure. A round tower made entirely of stone and concrete, tapered very slightly, it's sides painted white with a dark blue painted spiral running up to its top, giving it an odd Victorian and Carnivalesque look. At it's top, a large gallery deck, followed by a smaller one at greater elevation encircling a glass-windowed room topped with a cupola. Windows were sunk into, as well as several odd protrusions stuck out from it's clean walls at different elevations. At its concrete base, close to where the trio was standing, was a frightfully large apparatus. A large pipe ran from the lighthouse tower bottom and entered into a large snail-shell like iron casing, from which protruded an immense horn-shaped pipe which was so long, it was supported by several sawhorse-like trusses along its length until its largest diameter at the end rested on the ground over the cliffside.

"That there is a steam-powered foghorn, the tone is generated by a rotating chopper in that turbine casing, like an air-raid siren." Felix pointed out, confirming Mordecai's suspicion that it was a foghorn. He found himself pondering the gruesome thought of what it would be like to be on the sound-emitting end of it. He looked off to the other tower across the bay, at the same level, but separated by a half-moon shaped depression in the land hundreds of feet deep, which contained the town. The other tower was slightly shorter than this one, and was banded with black stripes up its sides rather than a spiral. The lantern room atop was of a slightly different and more ornate build as well.

The tall, golden grasses and reeds which grew out of the craggy rocks of the cliffside swayed in the loving caress of a gentle breeze. High up in the air, an old and brightly painted seaplane muttered unintelligible somethings with it's deep, clattering motor. A Hillbird cried from somewhere unseen, sounding for all the world like it was practicing the recitation of a carefully written poem.

Mordecai was suddenly awash in a soothing feeling, one that was buried in a memory of long ago, which he likened to when his mother stroked the back of his neck after he was hurt by a dodge ball game at school. The seaside sun beat down upon his back gently. He turned to look at Margaret, who had a serine expression on her face, one that he also wore un-knowingly. A steam whistle sounded from the town far below, echoing and bouncing off the cliff walls that surrounded it.

"Benjamin, Benjamin!" Felix shouted, knocking on a large timber door sunk deep into the stone of the tower. "You home?"

He then turned to Mordecai and Margaret. "He's probably up the tower, let me get him for us."

Felix yanked hard on a small chain hanging above the door, which was threaded through a pulley. Mordecai traced it with his eyes, and to his mirth found that the small chain went all the way up the side of the tower, threaded through small pulleys at equidistant intervals, quite a ridiculous little setup. A muffled ringing noise was heard in the sky near the top of the tower, sounding like it might have been quite loud to those very near it. They then heard small thrashing noises.

Shortly, the thick timber door was opened by a man who did not even look close to a hundred years old. His gray hair was tucked underneath a wide-rimmed straw hat, and his eyes were made more or less invisible by intensely reflective large square-rimmed glasses. His vest and pants were covered in stains of oil and soot, and he held a long wooden cane.

"What you want Felix?" He asked.

"Benjamin, we have new visitors to town who wish to settle in, I figured your fine tower is the best way to see the blasted place."

"Why they're birds, Felix!" Benjamin exclaimed, lifting his spectacles and attempting to rub them clean.

"Yes, they are." Felix replied. "He doesn't get out much." He whispered to Mordecai and Margaret.

"Ahh, carn-sarnit, come on in this instant with you, my home is your home, just hope you like over-sized candlesticks!"

Felix placed a hand on Benjamin's shoulder. "Ben, they know our friend Alex you know."

"They know that little power-plant?" He asked, gesturing with his hands. "Well isn't it a small world, Bahahaha, oh young Alex – what ever shall we do with him!" He turned to Mordecai and Margaret. "He fixed the chariot-wheels on my Fresnel you know!"

"Fresnel?" Margaret and Mordecai asked.

"No wait, don't get him started on that!" Felix said with genuine dismay.

"You Shaddup you!" Benjamin cawed, thwacking Felix with his cane and looking for all the world as if he was to very soon hack up a gigantic hairball. "They asked me an important question, these two have never seen a bo-na-fide Fresnel lens!"

* * *

><p>"Come inside the three of ya, welcome to Gordon's point North lamp-tower!" Benjamin jabbered proudly. "I know it's a bit shabby but remember, I'm all alone here."<p>

It was nearly pitch dark inside the stone tower, and deliciously cool. Light streamed in from a small window above them, illuminating the dust which silently floated in the gloom. A small and finely made oil lantern burned on a wooden table, only the shining top of which was visible in the small lamp's light. The slow ticking of a clock was audible in the silence.

"Sorry if it's dark, but as I say, I'm used to it." Benjamin said sincerely.

"Nonsense, I've always loved this kind of place." Mordecai said, looking around, his eyes picking up black, black and more black. Margaret agreed. It was surreal and comforting, the darkness wrapped them up like a thick blanket.

"Now I believe I was gonna show you my lens!" Benjamin stated. "Come on up with me here, mind your step now!"

As the trio's eyes became used to the darkness, Felix lead them up towards the shape of something now familiar to his many visits to the tower.

Mordecai and Margaret could make out a spiral staircase, continuing up into the cylindrical darkness of the tower, cut through by small square rays of light up it's long distance. As they ascended, Mordecai looked down to make out a small study and kitchen. The desk with the lamp, a coal burning stove, another small table and some wicker baskets, a wine-rack and a bookshelf of all things, and a door in the wall to another room. To one side, running up the wall was quite a large assembly of curious iron gears, and weights hung down through the inside of the tower and were attatched to long chains which went up to infinity. They walked up the stairs in silence, occasionally passing a small platform affixed to the wall, a horizontal catwalk or a large iron hook hanging in the dark.

What seemed like hours later, they reached the top, which was a shelf on the inner wall of the tower with another small staircase, built into the stone. Large iron bulkheads radiated from the thick center of a ceiling above their heads.

"Here, follow me." Benjamin said, walking up these steps and opening a trapdoor, letting in blinding daylight. One by one, they lifted themselves up into the searing light of day, and into a glass-sided room.

Mordecai and Margaret both stopped and stared. They stared at the thing which lay directly in the center of the room, which they could only equate to an immense and intricately cut diamond resting upon an ornate metal stand.

"THAT is a Fresnel lens." Benjamin stated, vibrating with sheer pride. "First-order at that, the biggest and best kind. That thing was brought here in sections over a hundred years ago, and has provided a bright and un-failing signal to ships since that time, as have her many sisters and cousins in lighthouses all over the world! Nothing like these infernal new _automated beacons_ we have these days, as they are called!"

The companions were astounded at the sheer beauty of the tremendous work of glass. It could not be compared to anything as they had never seen anything remotely resembling it. Panels with neatly cast bullz-eyes and concentric rings were arranged in a twelve-sided dodecagon shape, with further angled panels up and down which continued the shape of these same rings, and tapered inward at the top of the construct like a cathedral dome. These were all held in place by finely polished brass struts and angles, and the whole thing rested upon a round metal base which was painted a dark royal blue and was caringly pinstriped in gold. The base had gear teeth along its bottom and rested upon a gigantic rotator with several bronze wheels supporting the monstrous glass and metal creation. The mechanism which kept it turning, and which slowly rotated it even as they gazed upon it, lay in a glass-sided box and consisted of what appeared to be precisely made and scaled-up clockwork springs and pieces, as well as a centrifugal governor and a large escapement. The lens itself, each triangle formed by every consecutive ring making a perfect prism, refracted light in staggering beauty, little rainbows forming here and there. No light issued from directly inside.

"See." Benjamin said, pointing. Mordecai and Margaret realized he had been jabbering away throughout their reverie. "See, that there rotator is a pretty darned fine piece of work, made by the Thomaston Company of New York, it's got a big main spring which has the specific purpose of winding and tensioning the rotator-spring, which in turn drives the mechanism. The escapement speed is controlled by a cross-link in the governor which also controls the lens-rotation speed, and the escapement controls how fast the main spring winds the rotator spring! The governor is geared wayyy up, there is so little torque in it that it needed jewel bearings, because remember the lens turns one full revolution every minute but that governor has to turn at ninety rev's per minute to work properly. It's all very simple really."

Margaret nodded dumbly and Mordecai replied with an "Of course."

"But Mmyyy god." Said Benjamin, spreading his arms. "You should see this old lady lit up at night, she will blind you from three miles off, and lights up the inside of this old lantern room brighter than the sun. There's a regular old five-wick kerosene burner in there, burns nice and bright it does."

"Brighter than the Southern tower?" Felix asked, grinning.

At this, Benjamin's face scrunched up to a frightening degree, and one of the lenses in his spectacles popped out with a violent "ting", startling Margaret.

"_Much."_ Replied the old lighthouse keeper. "That moron thinks that monstrosity of a Scottish double-stacked IOV-burning sumbitch he's got can out-candle old faithful here!"

"Ben and Garland, that's the keeper of the other tower, have had a rivalry going for some time now over who's lamp is brighter. Even though they are rated for the same candle-power, you should _see_ some of the shenanigans these guys get up to. Their grandfathers started the damn tradition and it stuck!"

"Nonsense!" Benjamin retorted. "I like Garland just fine, he's just such a damned arrogant fool!"

"And I'm sure he feels the same way about you." Smiled Felix.

At this the old man's eyes seemed to shine right through his glasses.

"Just wait until I try my new kerosene though, lower flash-point!" He rubbed his hands together and looked at the lens with the expression a homeless man looks at a wedding cake.

Felix turned to Margaret and Mordecai.

"These guys have gotten up to things you wouldn't even have thought possible in their pursuits for brighter light, or more recently, dimming the _other's_ light."

At this Benjamin began hacking in a breathless, scratchy laugh.

"Ahahand, and I remember the time I siphoned out all his mineral spirits from the burner, ohohoho what a surprise he had!" he wheezed.

"Yes and you nearly caused a beacon failure which could have compromised ship safety." Felix retorted chastislingly. "And you weren't so happy when you woke up one day to find _curtains _around the windows of your lantern room either! _So_, the reason I come up here is to give my friends here a lay of the town. Look out those windows there!"

Mordecai and Margaret looked down off of the gallery high on their perch in the light tower. Far below them were the cliffs, and far below those was a nearly top-down view of the entire town, with every lamp-post just visible. The altitude could not have been more perfect.

Felix began pointing out things with the eagerness of a child.

"Yep we're very proud of our old town. A little patch of Americana, but at the same time so old that we still trace back and hold on to our European colony roots. That there is the shipyard and storehouses, and next to it is the drydock pens. Over behind that is the breaker's yard, where everything we save is kept, and in that tower over there is the trust fund. See, one thing this town and it's people pride itself on are saving things, we have our own trust fund to help us do just that, it's how we got that locomotive down there."

They could just make out the small shape of the steam locomotive that had been seen earlier milling about through the dockyards, easily traceable by the tremendous plume of black smoke.

Felix continued.

"That down there is the town hall where you just were, and next to it is the printing works and the textile mill. Up on that short rise there is the electric plant, _still _on its original 1870 Armington Sims engines by the way, and next to it is the waterworks and the aquaduct which feeds it. Over there on the other side of the town hall is the business district, we've got a few attorneys and investors there, most of them are actually quite easy-going people believe it or not. Then we got the engine sheds and the railroad yard, kinda hidden because the tracks are sunk up to the railheads in the town square of all things. Oh, about that square, we've got the best breakfast joint in all creation on the northwest corner.

Margaret looked to Mordecai with a devilish little smile, instantly reminding him of the breakfast shack atop the highway bridge in a silent "I can challenge that remark."

Felix continued, not noticing.

"Over there, up against the cliffside is where most of the residential is, little old houses stacked on top of eachother. Grassy Nook is just upwards on the cliffside there, that's where all the un-official town ballgames happen. See the problem for you is that we're already pretty much settled in in this town, no houses available. I know exactly where I can get you a room to let, though."

"How would we pay for it?" Mordecai asked. "Would you know where to find a job?"

Felix smiled.

"As a matter of fact my blue friend, I would. There is no shortage of work in _this_ town, hohohooo no. The recession didn't hit us because, my goodness, we still have a miraculous little thing here called _industry._ Not many people have heard of it these days, quite uncommon!"

The two Avians chuckled.

"How much did Alex jabber at you while you were with him?" Felix asked.

"A lot." Mordecai responded, mirth clearly visible in his features.

"Aha, then I take it you now know a lot about steam power, wether you wanted to or not! Felix replied. "Trust me, you may not know it but what Alex says to you has a way of drilling itself into your head and staying there...kinda like ticks."

At this everyone laughed.

"It's all too true my boy!" Benjamin wheezed, his hundred-year-old face bunching up on itself.

"There is a need of qualified workers down in the shipyard, namely to work on machinery. It pays quite well as it's specialized work and rather dangerous, but it's a hell of a lot of fun if you're a competent fellow, and we haven't had an accident for forty years, at least not one that has killed or injured anybody." Felix stated. "And get this, they actually have _pensions_ available down there, so it's a good long term job!"

"Take me down there." Mordecai said, grinning.

This was just the angle the bluejay needed. He might actually be able to make a go of it, to make his and more importantly, Margaret's dream come true. He might actually be able to make something he had never been able to make before, a future.

Just then a loud electric bell began ringing.

Benjamin suddenly took on a look of complete rage.

Felix turned. "That's the direct phone line to the south-tower." He said with feigned dismay.

Benjamin stomped over to a small box on the floor, which he opened and withdrew an old worn telephone out of.

"Yeah what is it?" He asked gruffly. Muffled noises came out of the phone.

"Yeah, I bet. I'd like to see you try!" Benjamin laughed angrily. "What is it _this_ time, you got a semi-trailer full of flashlights or sommin? No I would not like you to give me a taste..."

Suddenly a crimson fireball and a plume of smoke erupted from the south tower. The entire assembly watched in shock out the windows as across the bay, the tip of the lighthouse tower began to glow in a super-intense white-hot fireball.

"Where'd you get, how...you aren't serious!" Benjamin dithered. A short click was heard over the set.

"That _Blithering Bastard!"_ Shouted Benjamin, stamping on the floor. "He's got a magnesium torch up on his cupola! I'll blast it off!"

The century old man sprinted off with the agility of a teenager, down the stairs. The others followed closely.

* * *

><p>Down he went onto a small balcony in the dark of the tower, which was completely blinding to those who had just been in the sunny lantern room, until Benjamin opened a door.<p>

Out they piled onto a small stone jut-out built into the side of the tower, without so much as an excuse for a hand-railing. Margaret and Mordecai recoiled for fear of falling, but out Benjamin went to it's furthest extremity, where, a small cannon of all things stood. Its polished bronze barrel shewn gold in the sunlight and it sat upon a wooden carriage, the whole thing wasn't more than four feet long and was apparently already loaded, as Benjamin quickly withdrew a fuse stick from his trouser pocket and lit it with his lighter. Aiming the gun seemingly without care or method, he squatted to his knees.

"FIRE IN THE HOLE!" He shrieked, touching the burning tip of the fuse down into the tiny hole in the cannon's breech.

A searing firebolt and a smoke cloud erupted from the small bore of the cannon's muzzle. A few seconds later, the bright flame atop the south tower disappeared in a tiny waft of smoke, a single and miniscule piece of debris, appearing to be a lone shingle, flailing off the cupola.

"HaHA!" Benjamin fell back into a sitting position, laughing uproariously. "Got it! What a shot, did you see that? Did you? Eheeeehehehehehe!"

"Oh Bra-_vo_ mister master marksman, absolutely fantastically fabulous." Felix said with disdain in his face and his voice, clapping slowly.

"I hope you mean magnificently marvelous!" Benjamin wheezed happily.

Margaret and Mordecai were caught quite off guard by the sudden series of actions and quick exchanges. They fell onto eachother giggling in the doorway, making half-hearted attempts at struggling inside to avoid the anticipated fall from the narrow jut-out. They had by now learned to expect this kind of thing, yes that was the word for it, the complex and wonderful set of mannerisms, actions, and things-hidden-up-sleeves, this wonderful _thing_, from all those who inhabited the lovely, colorful world that Alex had introduced them both to. A world where good people still existed, where what was right seemed still so clearly distinguishable from everything else, where history still had a place in the future, a world never more than a hundred feet away from a railway, a world where laughter still filled the air like bells and birdsong and summer wind.

And yet, even with their accustomedness to it, it was brand new each time, and it filled both their bosoms with hearty, buoyant and luscious laughter that they savored the taste of.

"I just don't see what's so funny about it!" Felix said in mild protest, his speech drowned out by the intense cackling of the hundred-year-old man, the awkward noisy laughter of the bluejay and the breathy giggles of the robin.

Suddenly, and as if to add hilarity to the situation, Benjamin suddenly and violently flailed his arms and legs as if they were made of cotton, ricocheting them seemingly without pain off of the stone underneath him and the cannon, knocking it slightly to the side, all the while hissing "SShhh, SSHHHHHH, sshh _SSHHH sshhh!"_

At this Mordecai and Margaret fell silent, not because of restraint of laughter but because of running out of breath _from_ it.

In the silence of the afternoon air, they could hear the faintest of noises, the sound of impossibly far off yells and shouts of anger.

"Sound like Garland has his old megaphone out." Felix mumbled.

"Hehehehe wants to tell us somethin'!" Benjamin laughed.

On the gallery of the south tower, they all could barely make out the tiny form of a man waving one of his arms about rapidly, and holding something in front of his face with the other. Those who had tears of mirth in their eyes could not make this out as well.

* * *

><p>"Bye Ben!" They all chorused.<p>

The old man waved them off cheerily and then slammed the old door in the side of the tower shut fast.

"I say, Mordecai, you wouldn't mind if I tried out the old Lincoln for a spin? No need for directions then, and it has been a long while since I have piloted a decent automobile!" Felix asked.

"Well sure, I mean I still have trouble thinking of it as _my_ car, I'm still reeling from it being given to me." Mordecai replied.

"Aha, thank you my fine fellow, alright step lively, pile in now!" Felix chuckled.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Notes:<strong>

**The next half of the next chapter is already done. It will be up in who knows when, but it WILL be up.**


	24. Dulce Domum

**MERRY WHATEVERITIS FOLKS. I dont care what you celebrate as I am impartial, so be happy whoever the heck you are. :D**

**Here it is, the new and final chapter of this story. After this comes only a brief epilouge to tie everything up.**

**Hope you enjoyed this tremendous hurdle and sorry for the wait. I love how I got this done on Christmas Eve, it's so fitting. My quote, I beleive, when I entered the writers block phase at the end, the exact words were "By god this will take until Christmas." And it DID. EXACTLY. I am a man of my word!**

**Enjoy, folks.**

* * *

><p>Margaret held onto Mordecai's shoulder for dear life as Felix sped around the ledged curves down towards the town, nearly standing up in the drivers seat, his head and neck bent clean over the controls and steering wheel with an immense grin on his face.<p>

"Marvelous, simply and utterly marvelous!" He stated over the clean roar of the engine.

They careened down the cliffside road and onto the dirt and bricks of the town roads, scaring the townsfolk and laying flight to birds.

"Im going to take you down to the yards where all the work is to be had! Many a man has remade himself there, we call that part of town the Terra Opportune!"

They wound around a corner and past the post office, a great triangular building from which sprouted many telegraph wires on haphazard brackets, from several of which also hung laundry. High and low voltage wiring crisscrossed the sky overhead, power, telephone, telegraph and tram-catenary all hung from myriads of antiquated and bent wooden crossbars and iron-trussed poles. An electrician's nightmare.

Down a wider road they went, dodging two trolley cars and nearly upsetting a fruit wagon.

"That there is the beginning of the weekend market on this here, Market Street. They sell anything and everything there, from food to raw materials! We might even see our old friend the severed hand-trader this week!" Felix explained.

* * *

><p>The buildings slackened off and the road changed from brick to rolled sand. The stony outcrop ended in a drawbridge of considerable age and wear, which was beginning to rise with the loud noise of grating gearteeth. The bridge operator waved at them as Felix sped up.<p>

"Hold onto your tail-feathers folks!" He shouted as the car angrily mounted the bridge platform, slowly increasing in angle. The old automobile flung itself into the air, soared for a few seconds and then landed squarely on all four wheels, the ancient suspension working as well as it could to dampen the impact.

The land started again, at first a maze of rocky causeways supporting the solitary road and several others for railway track, and then solidifying into higher rocky plateaus which supported great yards of apparatus. High buildings, trusswork, semi-finished skeletal hulls, tanks and cranes towered before them, half in the shadow of the great cliffs above.

The causeway ended in a pile of scrap, which lay about everywhere. Propellers, wheels, nondescript panels and grates, tires, chains, anchors, barrels and other things lay everywhere in great piles. Felix slowed the frantic pace of the car and carefully maneuvered it about the debris and between to brick-sided buildings.

Great docks had been dug into the rock and lined with sturdy wooden piers, on which men worked furiously. Sparks flew and welding arcs blinded, derricks lifted immense pieces into the air and moved them about.

Felix pulled the car to a stop on a rickety wooden jutout over a narrow canal which was cut straight through the shipyard in the thick rock. Mordecai marveled at the massive cutting job it must have been to carve the great drydocks and waterways into the solid rock of the cove with such precision. There were immense rectangular holes in the ground, like gigantic swimming pools magnified in size and recreated for ships. All were connected to the ocean via the central canal, and were isolated from it by sets of immense iron gates. Some of gates were shut and holding back the sea from entering their respective pits, which were empty of water. In the few that were, along their wet bottoms, they could see workmen bustling about arranging large blocks, moving soggy, rusted equipment, or, if the pit was occupied, performing repairs beneath a weary old ship.

Upon stepping out of the car, they were almost immediately and violently accosted by an old woman. Her gray hair hung about her shoulders in messy strands. She wore a pair of heavy welding goggles that were pushed up onto her forehead, and she wore a shawl and dress that were so tattered as to be almost unrecognizable as such, and seemed to have bits of other things sewn into them, a mishmash of plaid, stripes, corduroy, flannel, buttons, clips, pins and bed sheet. Her feet were bare and were made now almost entirely of scarred calluses with long, pointy toes all covered in soot, and her hands were more or less the same. Her whole countenance was covered in oily, greasy black.

"FELISH!" She shouted, almost unintelligibly.

"Yes Maude!" Felix responded, bowing.

"I told you I wanned dem damn hedge-trimmers back here before Monday!" She shrieked at him in slurred speech, brandishing a pair of vice grips.

"My friends, meet Maude Murdoch MacNamara, director of all the shipyards!" Felix said, bowing.

"And don't you forget it!" She bellowed, spit flying and vice grips chattering even faster than her wooden teeth. "What can I do for you and your weird-lookin friends here?"

"She's just upset because she won the Chesterfield Anne-Ramsey look-alike contest last month." Felix tried to explain.

"Shaddup you little bastard, I'm always upset!" Maude shrieked. "Whenever we fix anything in this damned yard it has to go off somewhere to get broken again and then something else broken comes in, we never get a break! I called the apprentice boy runnin' around here and asked for the salted nuts, he brought me the _un-salted_ nuts, the _un-salted nuts _make me _choke!_"

"Maude, maude..." Felix cut off her loud, cross ramblings. "Maude, the Bluejay here, his name is Mordecai..."

"What kind of name is Mordokay?"

"Now Maude – just hold on a minute – Mordecai wants a job here. He is pretty well versed in steam power and I know you guys have been needing a crane engineer!"

"How the hell am I supposed to believe he's well versed in steam power, not many people from outta this town are well versed in steam power!"

"He's a friend of young Alex!"

"Ohhhoho great, that little caffeinated rivet-mongering pain in the ass bastard-face, jush what we needed!"

"He's not caffeinated, he's got a lot of energy and eccentric."

"Ill say he's eccentric, he glommed onto the Stephenson eccentrics of the last tramp-steamer we had in here and wouldn't let go until we let _him_ remachine the whole engine!"

"Look, can this guy find work here or not?"

"Yeah fine I'll make him an apprentice on derrick number four. Someone find me Bernard!"

Felix turned around with a fiendish grin on his face, holding his fist up in a gesture of victory. As he did this, a loud bell began to ring.

Maude whirled around and rattled at the top of her lungs.

"TWELVE O'CLOCK_, LUNCH...BREEAAKK_!"

"Lunch Break!" The call was repeated by several other workmen who extinguished their torches, dropped their hammers and saws, stopped their rivet-driving jackhammers, and fell off their ladders respectively.

"Everyone to the pier where Franz will have lobster for us!" Maude chortled, adjusting her teeth, changing her slur slightly.

There was a tremendous clattering of workmen moving through the yard.

"Follow." Maude swung her brawny arm.

* * *

><p>Mordecai, Margaret and Felix followed the procession out between two of the large buildings in the direction they had arrived from. Out among the piles of scrap metal, onto the edge of the bay crisscrossed with causeways. An odd shape was moving through the water towards them.<p>

Mordecai recognized it, he had seen all the films. A metal conning tower with flared handrailings, silvery painted sides, a searchlight and a radio wire mast, the wires of which trailed down under the frothing water. A machinegun was clearly visible atop the tower, as was the faded, chipped stenciling of a screaming eagle bearing a swastika, the latter of which looked like it had had quite a few unsuccessful attempts made upon it to be scratched off and removed.

"That's...that's a U-boat!" Mordecai shouted over the clatter of the shipyard crew, astonished and frightened.

"A U-boat?" Margaret asked.

"A Nazi submarine!" He replied, ducking,

The conning-tower jerked upwards out of the water, followed by a long and sleek grey hull that it sat on top of which bobbed up, spewing foam from it's ballast tank vents.

"Don't worry Mordecai, the Third Reich ended seventy years ago!" Felix laughed.

"Then why is that here?" Mordecai asked, bewildered.

"That, my boy, is yet another one of the idiosyncrasies this town has to boast about. We have our own U-boat. U-656 is her identification, a good sturdy product of 1939, VIIC type, built by Howaldtswerke in Hamburg. She's a rather un-cursed ship who did not bear many crimes for the follies of her fighting side, for she did not sink any ships. She was sunk just off of Newfoundland at Cape Race in nineteen forty-two, and was the first U-boat to be sunk by the United States Navy.

"Then _how_ is it here?" Mordecai asked.

"Funny story, that, and another triumph of our efforts as a historic maritime society!" Felix stated. "She sat festering underwater for sixty years exactly where she had been sunk. The story starts when Franz here washed up on our shores, a German immigrant, very sentimental fellow who used to be an aerospace engineer, he hated the complexity of life and the general attitude in his home country and wanted to be something simple. We asked him what, and he said a lobster fisherman. He ran his whole life on borrowed and leased vessels, until one day he leased out a big derrick-barge and none of us could figure out why. He sailed off one day and we never heard from him again, we all assumed he had gone mad! Well, two months he comes back with the barge quite alive and well, and with that sub up on the barge on blocks. He spent every last dollar of his loans to fix her up, and we of course helped him. We never let down one of our own, and from the day she left the drydock to this, he has used her to fish for lobsters. She never strays far from the harbor now!"

Mordecai just shook his head in disbelief as the crowd helped tie up the old submarine, pulsating with the hum of twin diesel engines. Lobster traps covered the decks of the submersible ship, tied down with old bungee cord.

"Franz how are you today?" Felix shouted up to the top of the conning tower.

"Ah, verr gutt, sehr gutt ja!" Franz replied. "Ah, Dudley, Bitte stoppen ze motor würden Sie?" He asked down the hatch.

The two diesel engines deep within the bowls of the ship shuddered to a stop.

The men from the shipyard, all dressed in assortments of seafaring and workman's clothes as tattered and mismatched as Maude's ensemble, and each having quite unique beards and mustaches, each more bristly and disagreeable than the last, raided the piles of scrap equipment. Two long wooden dinghy hulls were found and overturned on the rocky ground, boards were thrown across their keels to make a long and sturdy makeshift table. A fire was started with an acetylene torch and kerosene-soaked cloth on a bed of coal, over which was placed a cauldron which had been located seconds before. Into the cauldron went water from a rusted spigot, the workmen enthusiastically bustled about it. A line formed from the decks of the submarine all the way to the cauldron, throwing in the lobsters and other hard-shelled sea creatures one by one. The men who already crowded around the table banged on the boards with their rusted forks and knives in a Viking, almost inhuman way.

The great, towering men of the sea, who looked to have barnacles growing on their very faces, found anything they could to sit on. Boxes, barrels, wheels and axles, pieces of machinery, anything that could be dislodged and moved from the great piles was used. One man had the great fortune of finding quite a suitable piano-bench, sadly this man was one of the fire-stokers for the cauldron, so the bench was promptly broken up into small pieces and fed into the ravenous fire.

"Better grab a seat if you want to have lunch!" Felix advised. "Hope you like lobster!"

* * *

><p>The two avians were jostled by the hungry old men crowded around the makeshift table. All ate heartily. A man got up on the boards in a cleared off space where there had once been food and began to play his concertina, serenading another man who was referred to as the "Story Teller" by all who were present, who began to spin fantastical yarns of the sea and sky.<p>

"So that very ship now sits safe out in the harbor, and that, mates, is how I lost my left hand!" He finished, standing up, making a gesture and tearing off his wooden hand from its socket. Everyone present cheered.

* * *

><p>The workers left the table slowly. As Mordecai, Margaret and Felix slowly got up, Maude trumped over noisily, followed by a slightly portly, smartly dressed and sooty fellow.<p>

"Dish es Bernard, chief and conshultant steam engineer'a da _entire _harbor." She bellowed, pieces of lobster flying out of her mouth. "Make relations!" She clapped her hands together violently, and then trudged off.

"Pleasure to meet you!" Bernard greeted them amiably, firmly shaking hands with Mordecai. "Felix what have you brought me today?"

"Fresh meat for the grinder of course!" Felix chuckled.

Margaret raised an eyebrow.

"Mordecai here was kinda semi-tuitioned by the multifarious Alex that we all know and love to hate." Felix related.

"Ahhh yes, Alex, terror of the inter-urban service line." Bernard replied.

"Yes that one."

"I take it you were blathered at by him about steam power?" Bernard asked Mordecai.

Mordecai nodded.

"Then you've got all you need to be a good engineer here. Follow me and I'll show you exactly where I can have you work, and then we'll do the paperwork to make you an apprentice. You're gonna have _fun_ here man...what did you say your name was?"

"Mordecai." The bluejay responded.

"Aha, that's a good name. I think we had a schooner in here named that once." Bernard scratched his stubble-covered chin. "Here, come on right along and we'll get you all fixed up."

* * *

><p>The Derrick stood two hundred feet in the air. A gigantic trussed tower fifty feet wide supported an immense gear and a control house which sat upon it. From this structure protruded a thick smokestack, winding spools, cables, chains and a long trussed and riveted boom trailing burly hooks.<p>

"And this is where _you'll_ be working." Smiled Bernard. "It's a cozy little place up there, youll be snug up nice in the winter-time with that big old boiler, and boyyy is it ever great for keeping your food warm. You don't move her around much unless we've got a ship in the berth. Come on up let me show you."

Smoke wafted gently from the chimney of the crane. Felix, Margaret, Bernard and Mordecai walked up a long flight of stairs within the trussed tower of the crane, turning ninety degree angles in the stairway as they spiraled up.

Onto a platform, they climbed with some difficulty through one of the massive pizza-slice shaped openings in between the spokes of the great rotator gear and through a trapdoor in the underside of the control house, and one by one hoisted themselves up into a warm, inviting little place that was completely _coated_ in controls. Steamvalves, levers, clutches, stops, handles and wheels lined the ceiling, walls and protruded from the immense mechanism that sat to the left, consisting of massive gears, winding drums, pistons and counterweights. Behind this sat a gently percolating and grease-covered boiler. A grating noise was heard, followed by the clanking shut of firedoors. A man stepped out from behind the boiler, bathed in orange light.

"Hey Bernard." He greeted.

"Hey Steve, how's it hangin?"

"Just going off shift now, fire and water are ay-okay, got lots of natural draft, no blower, pressure's down nice and low in the seventies, just greased the main stuff but the small stuff still needs attention."

"Thanks Steve."

"Aight man, take care."

Steve dropped through the trap door in the floor and slammed it neatly shut.

"So let me show you how to run this old monster." Bernard patted Mordecai on the shoulder. "That lever there controls steam to the main drive, and this one..."

* * *

><p>"Thanks for everything Bernard." Mordecai grinned, looking up at his future place of work. A year ago, he'd have thought it a dingy old machine worthy of scrap not worth his time, but he felt as if he now looked at the world through new...rather <em>opened<em> eyes. It was to be his future place of work, his home away from home. It's great mechanism had witnessed, seen, and helped to assemble and repair ships that were by now across the world, upon the oceans or in far off ports.

Felix interrupted his thoughts.

"Come on along you two, now that I have shown you where the work is to be had, let me show you a place to call home." He lead, and they followed, bidding a cheerful goodbye to Bernard.

* * *

><p>Mordecai saw Felix instinctively go for the driver's seat.<p>

"You wanna drive again?" He asked Felix.

"You mind?"

"Not at all, have at it dude."

"Thanks mate, I can't get enough of a good auto, we'll be there quick as a flash."

Felix was good on his word, he drove swiftly and more than once skidded the old limousine around a curve.

"Not to worry, the auto mechanic's shop in this town will be able to fit you new tires should you need them, he's used to ancient cars coming in! He does transmissions, clutches, crankcases, heads, brakes, tires, lamps, you name it he will do it – for the right price of course!"

Mordecai and Margaret just listened to him go on and on. Yes, he did get carried away, but there was something comforting, almost needed about his incessant ramblings. Much like Alex, it would be something sorely missed should it stop.

* * *

><p>"Oho now what's <em>this?"<em> Felix exclaimed, slowing the car. "It's sparks!"

Felix stopped the car on the curb next to an alleyway between two shops. The alleyway was wide and filled with poles and crossbars covered in ceramic and glass insulators holding up tremendous wires. Rusted transformer casings and boxes hummed and buzzed loudly with electricity, power meters spun and junctions pulsated with energy.

"Sparks, sparks, ahoy up there!"

A man had climbed far up into the assembly of high voltage and was busy unscrewing one of the big cobalt-blue insulators, which had cracked. He was tall and lanky, had a cloud of white hair about his head that looked eternally charged with static, and wore a dirty pair of overalls and dark welder's glasses.

"Hullo down there to you Felix, is that a new car?" The man shouted down in a sharp, hoarse voice.

"No, just borrowed! How one can dream though. How are you and your noble pursuits?" Felix asked, then, aside to Margaret and Mordecai, "That's Eugene Jennings, the town utilities man and just about the best damned electrician you've ever seen, we all call him "Sparks" because he's the king of jury-rigging."

"Well!" Shouted down sparks. "Keeping the town lit and warm, at least the parts of it that aren't lit by kerosene and heated by steam!"

"You mean most of it!" Felix laughed.

"Exactly my boy exactly! Still, a lot of power-draw from the East end, all the welding units that you and your shipyard boys like to use. I thought you had your own genorators! You made me blow a vac-rupter switch!"

"We're working on getting them back in commission, but salt air is hard on all those moving parts!"

"Doesn't do my relays and cutouts any good either! Say, I don't think I've seen those two about before!"

"They're new here, I'm going to drop 'em off at Audie's place before I light up the gaslamps."

"Gaslamps, pah! When they decide to get rid of those things I'll be the one lighting the streets!"

"Sorry Einstein, they are protected in the town charter. You've got charge of plenty of lights, be happy damnit!"

"Never my boy, never in a hundred billion watt-hours!"

"Be seeing you Eugene!"

"Sparks to you!"

Felix brought the car away from the curb, the avians kicking up a storm of laughter in the back seat.

"Did you see his hair?" Margaret struggled nearly in tears. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't – Hehehehe, that was so hilarious!"

"Yeah the guy put a hand down on the live terminal of one of his own genorators a good ten or so years ago, from that time to this he's had that hairdo."

* * *

><p>The car skidded neatly to a halt next to a decrepit lamp-post in front of a shop that looked made of the things it contained. A raggedy old three-story building pushed right up against the cliffside, flanked by other raggedy old buildings in a long line, with another row of such buildings on the other side of the street. The sky over the narrow aisle between them was half-filled with the high cliffside, directly over which protruded one of the lighthouse towers, impossibly high up and vertical in the heavens.<p>

The building which Felix pointed to was _especially _raggedy. On it's front hung signs, hubcaps, railroad signals, shoes, paintbrushes, lobster traps, buoys and damaged clocks alike. The only window visible through the clutter was a large single-pane of glass with large red letters scribed onto it.

**CLIFFWALL PAWN SHOP**

**CASH & LOAN**

**JEWELRY, CAMERAS, CLOCKS, RADIOS, MACHINERY AND INSTRUMENTATION**

**Proprietor A. F. Munson**

**INQUIRE WITHIN**

"Here's Audie's place." Felix smiled broadly. Mordecai and Margaret looked at the old shop.

"My Dad used to take me to places like this." Margaret beamed. "We loved picking out stuff."

"Lots of stuff to pick out here, including a place to call home if I know Audie."

They walked in through the barley accessible front door, underneath the wreck of a bicycle suspended from the ceiling.

Behind the desk, in an old revolving chair, sat an old square-cheeked, square-faced man in a ragged cap and a plaid overcoat and a corduroy tie.

"Good afternoon Audie!" Felix greeted him.

Audie didn't look up.

Felix turned to Mordecai and Margaret. "He's got a slight hearing problem. I say, _good AFTERNOON Audie!_"

Audie looked up.

"Whatchya want Felix?" He asked in a thick New-Jersey inflection.

"I've got a pair of bookends here that would like to lodge on one of your shelves." Felix replied.

Audie paused. "What? You damned harbor idiot – _what?" _

"My friends here, travelers just in to town and looking to stay. Do you have a room for them?"

At this, Audie got up out of his chair with a loud creaking noise, coming from both the chair and he. He strolled over the noisy floorboards, perched his half-moon spectacles a bit higher on his nose, and scrutinized the two.

"These are _birds_, Felix." He stated, his expression remaining the same.

"It took you that long to figure it out?" Felix laughed.

"How far have you traveled?" Audie asked.

"About – clear across the country." Margaret replied.

A slight smile crept across Audie's face.

"Endured a lot of crapola to get here eh?"

"Yeah."

The smile grew a little wider.

"Found the place by accident?"

"Well...sort of. We were advised to come here, but we didn't know what _here_ was until we arrived."

Wider still.

"Any good stories from along the way?"

"Yes." Margaret and Mordecai both chirped in unison.

A toothy grin erupted over Audie's square face, between the definite lines of his square cheeks.

"Let's talk room a board." He said.

"And this, my friends, is where I leave you." Felix bowed. As he hurried toward the door, Margaret grabbed his sleeve.

"Hey, don't just rush off!"

"Oh I'm sorry my dear, but the lamps need lighting, somebody's got to annoy old Eugene."

"Thank you, for _everything_." She said, drawing him into a hug. Mordecai reaffirmed what she said and shook his hand firmly. "For _Everything_."

"Well, I just gave you a kickstart, now go get out there and make a life for yourselves!" Felix shouted as he skipped out the door. They saw him jog down the street through the glass window, on his merry way, whistling an echoed tune down the dim street.

Audie struggled to pull two chairs out from a pile of scrap furniture in the corner. He arranged them on the other side of his desk, slid an old film projector which stood upon it out of the way, and sat down creakily.

"Alright you two, first of all I didn't get your names. Care to tell?"

"I'm Margaret, sir." Margaret said.

"Margaret." Audie nodded. "Margaret." He savored the word like a scrap of good-tasting food. "And you?"

"Mordecai."

"More what?"

"_Mordecai._"

"What kinda name is that?" Audie raised a snow white eyebrow.

"It's my name sir."

"Well...good enough I suppose. Mordecai. Now that there is a one of a kind name. I've always liked one of a kind things. So tell me about this trip of yours, what in your _right mind_ possessed you to hike all the way out here? To this crazy little town of ours? What can we offer you, soot, grease, crud and sludge? Ships? Hard sea-rock, or perhaps some cold heartless money?"

"Margaret wanted to see the Ocean." Mordecai stopped him.

"Until today, I had never seen it." Margaret added, quietly.

This shut Audie right up, and he did not speak for the better part of a minute.

"You came...all the way out here...to see...was it everything you wanted it to be?" He asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

"More than that." Margaret replied, just as quietly, her face shining. "Much more."

Audie sat back in his chair, with more loud creaking.

"It just so happens, my dear...it just so happens that I came here all those years ago for the _very same reason._"

Margaret and Mordecai stared at him, Margaret with a look of utter dumb-foundation.

"Yes, yer' a dreamer. I'm a bunch of things, and despite all the shit I've taken throughout life, nothing has removed the dreamer from me. It's something yer' born with, something ya carry through yer life, and it is the most wonderful thing in the world ta have. I came here to see the sea, once I did, nothing else mattered. I wanted to live next to it and in it the rest of my life, this pawn-shop here is nothin' more than my tendencies to junk collectin', and a means to _stay_ by that beautiful blue water. Used the money I scrounged up to buy a boat, fix her up, go sailing every now and then."

With that, the image of a hard old man was hacked apart. Once again, Mordecai and Margaret both took to heart the lesson of judging books by their covers. Everything had a life behind it, a story behind it, if one only dared to look for it.

"I have somewhere for you to stay." Audie said.

"I have a job in the shipyard, so we can pay our way." Mordecai replied.

"Ahh that wont be necessary, not for the first few installments anyway, give you a chance to save somethin' up. Here, come with me let me show you what I've got."

* * *

><p>Audie lead the two companions up a narrow, cramped stairwell, up into the darkness of the old building. Across a mezzanine suspended in a dusky void across which nobody could see, and up another flight it stairs into a thinner hallway. A narrow oaken door at the end lay at the top of a smaller flight of stairs.<p>

Through this door was a room which made both avians stop in the doorway.

A dusty little attic room, fully plastered, made it seemed for children. A man could stand fully at it's center, where the angles of the roof peaked in the ceiling. The plaster was covered with the most haunting and enchanting pastel shaded striped floral print wallpaper either of them had ever seen. Looking at it was pleasantly tiring to the eyes and mind. The whole room spoke of sleep. A small electric lamp was burning on a nightstand sitting to the side of a comfortable looking bed, just big enough for the two of them. There was a small shelf, and a sprawling, soft rug on the noisy hardwood floor. The floorboards were pegged down, not nailed. There were small hooks on the ceiling, and in the dormers of the roof were large windows, looking at the gray sides of the cliff. Above the bed was a large skylight.

"I love it here." Margaret said, not able to think of anything else to describe the space.

"It's perfect." Mordecai agreed.

"Well then, let's go unpack that car of yours. It will be a whole afternoon's work, trust me on that."

As they all made for the stairs, Audie turned, holding up a finger.

"Oh and about that car, you wouldn't be interested in pawning or selling would ya?"

Mordecai laughed, shaking his head.

* * *

><p>The luggage had since been unloaded, brought through the shop, up through the shrouded place in the dark between the floors, lit only by daylight through some obscure window high up in the blackness, and into the cozy little room. The neccesities had been unpacked, the lantern that Alex had given Mordecai sat upon the nightstand next to its electric counterpart, some toiletry and a few small furnishings, a picture, a mirror, some framed photographs. The rest they had agreed to unpack tomorrow.<p>

Margaret had put on her night clothes, something she had not been able to wear on the trip. Hardship was at an end, it was time to make a home. A thin, floaty silk tanktop and white panties. She lazily flopped down on the bed and nestled into the warm sheets, looking straight up.

"Oh Mordecai, come and see this!" She exclaimed.

"What?" He asked.

"Turn the lights off and come look!"

Mordecai turned the lamp off and jumped onto the old spring mattress next to her, landing like a board and nearly bouncing her off the bed. She giggled and he pulled her in close.

They both looked up through the skylight, straight up into the air. The heavens were an impossibly deep shape of midnight blue, the stars were out in strength and far more visible than they had ever seen before, especially as their eyes got used to the dark. The little black branches of the trees and scrubland of the small wasteland in the backyard of the building and the cliffside poked up into the blue spangled with twinkling lights. The sky above them was exactly half blue, half black, as they looked straight up the cliff wall, hundreds of feet high, as one would look across a flat field while standing upright. It was almost disconcerting, the unique viewpoint. Where the cliff tipped and ended, the foundation and tower of the lighthouse, which rested directly above their heads, perched high up on the cliffside, seemed only to stick up and out a few inches, a slowly rotating source of golden rays barely visible at its top end. A lone bat flew overhead, a small black triangle in the blue, under the powder grains of light.

"It's so _beautiful_." Mordecai whispered.

"Just like on the roof of the old house." Margaret added softly. "Only better – it's ours, it's all _ours_ now."

Mordecai reveled in the profound gratitude that filled his heart. It was going to work, it was working, all he had ever hoped for, and everything he had ever hoped for _her._

"Everything's gonna be okay I guess." She cooed, a noticeable hint of tears in her voice.

"Hey." Mordecai snuggled to her and reached for the blanketing, pulling it up. "I love you."

"I love you too." She sniffed. It was very hard for the both of them to look away from the beautiful sight out the window.

"Don't cry, I love you so much, and this place is worth loving you in."

She moved closer to him under the heavy blanketing, the same uncannily comfortable blanketing from the emergency box that they had first shown their love for eachother underneath. Her red feathers mingled with his blue as they leaned on eachother, slumber calling quietly and insistently. The last thing they heard before fading out of conscious thought, quiet and still in the night, behind the forever walls and cold windows, was what they both could swear was a long and melodious choral harmony, sung in a cappella. A song in a foreign tongue by unknown voices.

(Penultimate) FIN.

* * *

><p><strong>I TOLD you I'd get it done. Well, still not quite done yet, there's an epilogue to be had!<strong>

**Hope you all enjoyed this story. This was the end but it isnt QUITE over.**


	25. Epilouge

**AND HERE IT IS, the end of this gigantic blathering hunk of text that I promised to finish and did. **

**Epilouge for our characters and what happens after. **

**ENJOY.**

* * *

><p>Margaret awoke looking up out of the skylight to the cliff walls, which glowed a bright pinkish-scarlet in the rising sun. She felt Mordecai's weight pressing her into the comfortable mattress. She found it indescribably sweet how he clung to her in his sleep, something that she knew was normally thought of as odd and undesirable. It felt good, and she knew they both needed it. She slowly pushed upwards, displacing him and sat up, stretching her wings far over her head in a soothing stretch. She felt so good this morning. The room shined with the same scarlet glow, coming down from the wonderful window above the bed. As she shuffled around on the bedspread, two blue paint strokes abruptly sprang up and wrapped themselves around her. She laughed as she fell back and was met with a powerful kiss, which Mordecai refused to break as she struggled.<p>

"Mordecai, Mordecai!" She struggled, after what seemed ages. "I need air!"

"Oh alright fine." He relented with feigned petulance, abruptly sinking his face into her bosom instead.

"Hey!" She giggled, her voice raising several octaves.

* * *

><p>"You sure you know your way there?" She asked after him as he put on a scarf.<p>

"Yeah, it's a pretty small town, gotta take the Lincoln so I'm not late my first day on the job."

"Good luck out there, I love you!"

"Love you too."

With that, Mordecai shut the door and trudged down the stairs, into the space in the dark.

* * *

><p>Traversing the mezzanine in the void, and down the next flight of stairs, he burst forth into a world of gold and red. The morning sun filtered down into the alleyway and into the shop via the large glass windows of the storefront. A salty aroma of overcooked whole wheat filled the musty air.<p>

Audie was using one of his antique toasters to make toast, the big silvery box, covered with stains, was pouring black smoke.

"Good morning M-Mordeck-I is it? Care for a bite of toast?" The crusty old shop proprietor greeted the jay.

"Can't this morning Audie, but thanks though. Don't cause a fire with that thing!" Mordecai replied.

"Are you kiddin'? The smoke just means it's workin!" Audie gave the old machine an affectionate thwack. At that moment, two black, smoldering, cratered pieces of what had once been slices of whole wheat bread sprang from the slots and flew into the air trailing black smoke.

Audie caught them in a gloved hand and fiercely bit down on one with a hard crunching noise, and smiled in a wrinkly manner. "Just the way I like 'em."

Mordecai laughed as he went out the door into the crisp coldness. It wasn't intolerably or even uncomfortably cold, it was just the kind of morning he remembered from the late autumn days of his boyhood.

There stood the Lincoln, shining green at the curbside.

Mordecai got in, shut the door, turned on the ignition and depressed the starter. The motor cranked but refused to kick over.

"What the..." He said to himself, adjusting the choke and trying again.

* * *

><p>The third, fourth, fifth, and eleventh try resulted in the same thing happening, until the worn down battery refused to turn the stubborn starting motor any longer.<p>

He saw why when he looked at the fuel gauge. It rested on solid empty. All the driving around town had drained the tank, and he realized they had been running on fumes as they had pulled up to the shop yesterday. He got out of the car and waded into the piles of junk in front of the pawn shop. A quick search yielded a few antique gasoline canisters, only one of which had even the faintest odor of petroleum inside it.

"Auugh!" He exclaimed to nobody. He would have to walk, he would be an hour or more late on his first day on the job, and he did not want to see Maude in a bad mood – rather a _worse_ mood than her usual perpetual bad one. The bicycles that lay about in the yard were all broken, and the only motorcycle was devoid of several important pieces needed to be rideable, and looked like it hadn't run in fifty years. He would indeed have to walk.

* * *

><p>Getting up to a brisk pace, and telling himself it would be just the same as walking through the wide expanses of parkland, <em>something he had thoroughly hoped would end with leaving the place<em>, he set off down the street. He walked on one of the rails that stuck up through the puddled gravel of the road, the railway track that seemed to infiltrate every road and passage in the town. The alley ended as the jagged wall of the cliff curved, and the street jogged left. The gravelly road soon met with a cobblestoned mainroad, graced with more elegant buildings on either side, still crisscrossed overhead with the incessant plathera of electrical wiring. The street was deserted, he could see nobody out and about, and here nothing but a low, mysterious ambient rumble, like that of a far off highway. He assumed it was the shipyard, already bustling with the power of great machines. Looking up, he saw half of the town was still in a gloomy shadow cast by the cliffs shrouding it. Half black, half scarlet, with little metallic adornments of buildings reflecting the light in a haunting manner. Buildings were studded with preculiar little vertices which took the form of spikes, lightning rods, anemometers and weathervanes, strange coils and television antennas and other miscellany. He loved it here, there was something that drew him into the hushed atmosphere that he could not describe.

The quiet was suddenly dashed by a sharp discharge of compressed air and the death-scream of train brakes being applied. Mordecai whirled in astonishment to see the tremendous black boiler and the glaring eye of a steam locomotive approaching him from behind. He dove out of the way as he was passed by two tall, gleaming discs of driving wheels rimmed in silver. The locomotive drew to a quick stop next to him, having been traveling at a slow pace to begin with. It was truly a fine machine, all polished black painted surfaces that reflected all that was around them like mirrors, distorting the image with their strange cylindrical and machined faces. The smell of coal and oil filled the air around it in a now familiar aroma. It was the same locomotive that he and Margaret had first encountered at the crossing outside of town with it's shouting and frivolous band of men.

"Hi-ho down there, Hi-_ho!_" Called down the engineer from the cab, sliding open one of the red-silled windows. Mordecai also recognized the engineer as the same he had seen at the crossing.

"Good morning sir, sorry I got in your way!" Mordecai shouted up.

"You made my damn coffee-cup fall over!" The engineer replied, exasperatedly. "Come on up here out of the cold air will you?"

Mordecai mounted the engine step and clambored into a warm, snug cab. The fireman, a twig-like bald man with spectacles and burn marks greeted him silently, raising his mug from a small shelf on the backhead.

"So, outta gas eh?" The engineer asked as he noisily licked the inside of his spilled mug. "Damn floor's gonna have a nice stain on it, and the worst color too. This particular coffee is what I call baby-shit-brown number four on the home improvement store paint selection chart."

"Wait a sec, how'd you know I was out of gas?" Mordecai asked, bewildered.

"You've just got that look about you." The engineer replied.

Mordecai raised an eyebrow.

"Come on, don't you know that look that people get when they run outta gas?"

"I think he saw your gas-gauge as we ran by your car." The fireman spoke up.

The engineer hissed, violently tore the brake-handle from airbrake control stand and hurled it at the fireman, who caught it with his teeth, laughing.

"Fireman, I am disappoint!" The engineer seethed. "You know I don't pay attention to trivial things of that nature!" He then turned to Mordecai and lowered his voice grimly. "By the way, the lenses on the stoplights of that car are very fine, Corning-made, make sure they never get broken." He then turned to the fireman and shrieked, "And GIVE ME BACK MY BRAKE HANDLE."

The fireman violently spat out the handle, slinging it across the cab and causing the engineer to fumble for it violently.

"The name's Ed, but you can just call me Edgar." He said to Mordecai, slamming the handle back into place on the square key of the airbrake stand and turning around very slowly to shake Mordecai's hand. "My beautiful little Atlantic, my idiot fireman and I run the raw materials between the steel mill and lumberyard lying outside of town straight into the shipyard." He leered at the jaybird with wide, wild eyes.

"He's completely and clinically insane you know, just take it in your stride." The fireman said softly. "By the way, I'm Marcis."

"I think he can figure that out by _himself_." Edgar retorted.

"What, that you are insane?" Marcis asked.

"No, that your name is Marcis."

"_How?"_

"You just look like a Marcis, I've told you that before!"

"Oh just shut up and drive you old bastard!"

"You shut up, I knew my father quite well, he'd come to see me in the sanitarium every Sunday! Once a week is all you really need to know somebody!"

Mordecai sat back, did his best not to gape and listened to the banter of the train crew.

"Oh, and I take it you are headed to the shipyard then?" Edgar asked.

Mordecai nodded.

"New crane operator?"

Mordecai did gape slightly.

"Ha hahahahHAhaha!" Edgar fizzed. "I knew you looked like a _crane_ guy, didn't I say he looked like a _crane guy_ just before we almost hit 'em?"

"Yeah boss that's _exactly_ what you said." Marcis replied, truthfully and exasperatedly.

Mordecai had to bite his hand to keep from laughing.

"Aha, cannibal as well! A man after my own heart he is!" Edgar nodded approvingly as the steam engine began to roll, moving out of the black and into the red, moving toward the shining future.

* * *

><p><strong>Mordecai got to work on time that day, bang on the dot at seven o'clock. Maude greeted him with a slap and a workman's gift for his first day, a cracked salt-shaker. The crane ran well for him, and always did as he was guided his first days by the steady hand of Bernard and the friendly steam crew. <strong>

* * *

><p><strong>He and Margaret saved up the more than reasonable wage from the shipyard work, and within a year had bought out an empty space in the upstairs of an old office that had lay abandoned since the previous tenant, a small insurance company, had been tarred, feathered and run out of town. Felix, always by their side, proved to be not only a great friend to them, but a roving jack of all trades. He helped them lay down a shining and smooth wooden floor, and procured large mirror-glass for each and every wall. The ballet studio, the first of it's kind, opened on a bright spring morning the following year, and attracted every girl in town. Margaret proved to be as good a teacher as she was a dancer, and Mordecai would take days off just to watch her spin and float over the neatly layed floor. They even played host to the charming and un-assuming ten-year-old daughter of Edgar, the demented engineer, who, after each and every class, would stop his locomotive outside the building and pick up his daughter, who chortled all the way home of the class and the wonderful movements performed in it. <strong>

* * *

><p><strong>Audie became the grandfather that Mordecai and Margaret never had. The smell of burnt toast out of one of the antique toasters every morning became a tradition, and both the companions acquired a taste for the charred slices. When nothing else was to be done, Audie would pull a pair of tickets from his old register and take the avians to see a charming old film in the old town cinemas. The Marx brothers and the three stooges shorts between the films were found by Margaret and Mordecai to be more hilarious than they ever should have found them, coupled with the infectious choke-laughter of the pawn shop proprietor, which he insisted was just the influence of the toast. He never did ask for the first payment of the upstairs room. <strong>

* * *

><p><strong>The cable-ferry captain steamed in one afternoon on the first day of summer aboard Industrious, and was greeted with a celebration of a good portion of the townsfolk. Industrious came in for her regular drydock session decked out in flags and Indian corn, as apparently she always had in previous years. She was not put in one of the stony shipyard berths, but hauled up on a railroad flatcar and run down main-street, serenaded by a gypsy violinist and a barbershop quartet the whole way, as all in the town came out to see the last steam-powered cable ferry in the whole world. She was placed in the center of the town square, next to where a little patch of grass and flowers grew thanks to Felix's care. Up on a set of rusty drydock stands she stood, where Felix, the charismatic steam engineers, and most importantly the dauntless <em>"Mister U, the old steam cabler<em>" could shower her with loving care, and scrape off the barnacles. **

* * *

><p><strong>It was on a warm day in the middle of that beautiful first summer in the town of two great lamp towers that several letters arrived via the old postman. <strong>

* * *

><p>"Margaret, check this out I just got a whole bunch of letters from back home...<em>other<em> home."

"Really?" She asked, bounding up from the closet door. "Let's see here!"

"This one's from...whoa it's from _Benson_!" Mordecai exclaimed, tearing open the envelope.

_Mordecai-_

_Hoping things are well at whatever new job you have...assuming you have any. I also you hope you and Margaret found whatever you were looking for way out there, it took me and the others a long time to find the proper address to send this to. Alex ended up telling us._

_Believe it or not, I hate to say it, and I really hate wasting the good ink to write it, but I really miss you guys. Things are weird in a whole different way with you and Rigby gone. Alex is completely insane, he is one hundred percent certifiably **insane.** I don't know how or why I put up with him. When I fired him he just grinned and said he would simply volunteer his time. That damn Oswald-machine is tearing up the grass again._

_Write back soon or you're FIRED-_

_Benson._

They both laughed at the letters contents, and laughed even harder at what the next one said.

_Mordecai-_

_Missing you a hell of a lot. Get the hell back here._

_You wont ever believe what hapenned, me and Eileen are kind of an item now. You say I told you so and I will punch you out._

_Rite back or else._

_-Rigby_

Margaret couldn't breathe through the tears of laughter, and Mordecai was close behind her.

"He still hasn't gotten any better at writing, oh this is classic!" the jay guffawed.

"Heehehehey, hey it's the thhhhtthhough that counts!" Margaret squeaked, hitting the floor with mirth. "And I can't beeehehee...believe he and Eileen are together, she must be so happy Hehehe!"

"Or finding out how simple of a moron he can actually be!" Mordecai replied.

"Oh, what's this huge one here?" She asked.

"Looks like it's from Alex." He replied.

"What else would have brass corners on it!" She began to giggle again. It was infectious, when she started, he couldn't help but join in.

They opened the odd and immense brass-bound envelope. Several things fell out, the first of which was a thick piece of printing-press paper neatly written in squarish shorthand with an ink pen, which looked very much like a typewriter font.

_MARGARET AND MORDECAI-_

_I hope you like where it is I sent you. If you don't, then bloody well too bad._

_No but really, I wish you all the prosperousness and joy in the whole world and more than that. I am told you have met everyone and settled in quite nicely, that makes me very glad. Sorry I have not kept up with you recently for I have been very, very busy. Attatched are photographs of what I have been up to should you be interested, which you most likely will not be in favor of vigorously making love to eachother. (That was a hint by the way Mordecai, if you could not already tell.)_

_The YP class pacific is back in the best of good health, she shines like India now. The Russians and I gave her a run to see how she likes her new legs...or wheels rather, and she does. She ran better than the day she was made. We will find a use for her somewhere, but as of right now she is living comfortably in the workshop and minding that we don't spill or knock over anything. Wanderer is now drydocked in Niantic and is undergoing a full overhaul. Would you believe we found a skeleton in her number four gas-chamber? Honestly, the things you find in ships...I digress. Her twin sister Stargazer has now been put in commissioned and completed her shakedown cruise and trial runs early this spring. Captain Salisbury brought her to me down at the park. Incidentally, I am writing this letter as we prepare for takeoff. I am bringing the whole ship down to meet you my friends, and I have a little furry brown surprise and his girlfriend waiting for you on board._

_All the very, very best-_

_Alexander Edward Karnes_

_With regards from Mikhail Bilienkov, Andre Trofimoff, and Maksim Egorov._

With the letter were several crisp photographs, one of the Indian locomotive decked out in colorful paint, brass and bronze decorations and with not one bent or rusted piece to be seen, pouring smoke and steam and with the three Russian men and the mis shapen boy crowded around it, grinning. Another showed two immense airships sitting next to eachother, partially protruding from a yet more immense building on the waterfront of Niantic.

"There's another here from Eileen, and one from Pop's, and one from Skips too, haha HFG sent us something!" Mordecai laughed, and then stopped.

Margaret stopped sorting through the envelopes as well, listening intently.

They both heard the noise which had first catapulted them into the wonderful adventure they had entered upon that last fateful summer. A tremendous cacophony of mechanical noise, whirring, whining, chugging and clanging of metal. It was very slow and far off, but definitive even through the thick walls of the old shop building, and the two avians knew _exactly_ what it was. A shadow crept across the skylight.

* * *

><p>Mordecai and Margaret sprinted down the street as fast as they could go, people in the street all looking up at the tremendous, silvery ship of the air that wheeled, churned and steamed up above the cliffside, coming in right between the two lighthouse towers, her nose pointed at the ocean.<p>

Down to the shipyard they ran, their legs never once tiring or failing, down to meet their friend as the great ship named _Stargazer _lowered herself with grace and caution into the haven of a carved out cove in the cliffside.

A barge with a mooring tower was already steaming out of the shipyard, on her way to meet her airborne counterpart. A plume of steam erupted from Stargazer's topside.

The beautiful and powerful melody of steam whistles filled the air, every whistle in town joining in the chorus as the lovers ran down to the cool, blue waters of the snug harbor.

EES END OF STORY.

GO HOME NOW AND GO TO BED.

* * *

><p><strong>And that, my friends, is the END of it. I know, about time this piece of junk came to a stop aint it? Blahaha, onto the NEXT one...whatever that may be. Might do something on pixar's "UP" next, absolute masterpiece of a film. (No I didn't go see it just because of the Zeppelin in it...alright maybe thats ONE of the main reasons.)<strong>

**Catch you on the flip-side folks, and a happy 2012 to one and all! **


End file.
